by JN Lenz
Turning the old Ford right at the next intersection, Clyde continued to survey the roads surrounding the estate all the while comparing them to the map he had bought earlier in the day at a local garage.
Clyde continued to drive a few more miles around the perimeter roads of what many referred to as the Hunt Club. The concession road would divide the end of the homes and the beginning of the Hunt Club Golf Club. Beyond and surrounding the golf course, a large swath of environmentally protected land stretched out for close to one thousand acres to the north. Clyde found a deserted gravel road and back tracked to the west before parking the pickup into a suitable opening in the bush.
Clyde removed the bicycle from the back of the pickup truck and set off down the gravel road towards the estate of Harry Winston. The chances of going undetected to do a survey of the side roads and properties adjacent to the Winston estate would be much easier on a bike than on a car. After riding down all the roads surrounding the Winston estate, Clyde rode his bike along a small paved road just north of Harry’s estate. Once when he felt he was close to the back bush which abutted Harry’s estate Clyde would enter the bush with the bicycle.
The center of the bush was mostly mature maple and Ash trees, making the ride manageable even at night and with very limited moon light. Backing on to the back of the Winslow estate was the property Clyde had just ventured onto with the bicycle. After riding partially through the property, Clyde leaned the bike against a large Maple tree. He was now close to the back corner of Harry’s estate; he would remain on the forest side of the tall link fencing which surrounded the back of the Mansions property. Walking slowly and carefully toward the back of the fencing, Clyde found a large Maple tree which stood directly align to the middle of Harry’s house.
The tree was situated far enough back to remain well in the shadows from the surrounding forest. It was here that the long hours spent in Clyde’s past hunting deer from tree stands would condition him for several hours of surveillance of Harry Winslow. After scaling up the side of the large maple using its oversized limbs to climb high into the foliage, Clyde would remove the small portable tree stand from the bag whose strap hung from his shoulder. Quietly and precisely affixing the portable stand to the tree, Clyde would then strap himself to the stand. In the event that he fell asleep the strap would prevent him from falling off, though he doubted there would be any fear of falling asleep on this night.
For the next six hours, Clyde observed the movements inside the large Winslow Mansion. Fortunately for Clyde, many of the blinds and drapes on the back of the large limestone building remained wide open. Using a pair of eight times forty binoculars he often used to hunt deer, Clyde made a mental note of all movements of individuals inside the house and the times they occurred. Having placed the camouflage poncho around him after securing the tree stand to the tree, Clyde was able to conceal the light from his watch which he depressed each time a staff member moved to the second floor of the residence.
As far as Clyde could detect on the first evening, only the nurse would venture to the second floor every hour on the hour. Clyde was confident Harry Winslow must be residing in the upstairs bedroom permanently. With the exception of the nurse, the remaining house staff consisted of another female, most likely a maid and a male who Clyde presumed was some sort of body guard. Even though the male security appeared to remain downstairs on the first night, Clyde knew he would be the biggest hurdle between himself and Harry Winslow.
That first night Clyde was only able to get a couple of clear views of Harry Winslow’s shadow, watching as the dark shadow crossed one of the windows of what could only have been his large bedroom. Both times he crossed past the window had taken place before eleven pm, a slow moving silhouette that shuffled its way across the window opening. The shadow that appeared behind the semitransparent sheer curtain, was that of a hunched over male pulling what looked like a pole with a bag on the top. Most likely an intravenous drip, Clyde assured himself as he watched the shadow disappear behind one of the bedrooms exterior walls. After eleven pm Clyde reasoned Harry Winslow has most likely retired to his bed for the evening, the nurse had switched off all the lights with the exception of one dim lamp in Harry’s room.
By midnight on that first evening, Clyde would watch as the far off lights of the neighboring homes became dark. After that point in the night, Harry Winslow’s house was lit only by a pair of lights in the kitchen and the staff living room at the rear of the large home which was adjacent to the kitchen. Both rooms which the staff used were located on the opposite end of the house and one floor below the bedroom of Harry Winslow. Clyde watched the body guard move occasionally between the kitchen and the living room once or twice each hour, the T.V. had remained on from the point of Clyde’s arrival that evening.
Through the darkness, Clyde continued to observe the Mansion for another couple of hours. He now realized that the initial plan he had thought of back in Largo of either suffocating or poisoning Harry Winslow would never work. Entering the house undetected would be difficult enough and any noise or struggle on the old man’s part would quickly bring the security guard and the staff to Harry’s room.
Even if Clyde was able to get in and out of the house undetected (which would be a long shot) the death of Harry Winslow with all his wealth and stature would ensure that an autopsy would need to be performed revealing the source of his death, regardless if he had the appearance of passing away from Natural causes for one of his many ailments. Certainly this would become a murder investigation regardless of the manner in which Clyde disposed of Harry Winslow. The man he was too much of a big wheel for a massive business empire for an autopsy not to be conducted, which would clearly reveal the death to be murder regardless of the manner in which Clyde performed that murder.
After Clyde climbed down from the portable tree stand on that first night, he packaged the stand into the bag, placing the bag against the large maple tree. Clyde wanted a closer look at a pair of man doors at the back of the Mansion; one door was directly beside the staff living area. The second of the two doors resided at the far corner of the garage and the end of the large Mansion, he returned for the portable stand after getting a better look at the pair of doors.
Using one of the darker areas with the heaviest foliage in the large back yard; Clyde climbed over the back yard fence. After climbing up and down the fence Clyde made his way to the door closest to the back of the garage and near to where the employee living area resided in the large Mansion.
The remaining nurse and the man Clyde believed to be the guard had not made a move from the living room area since past one AM, Clyde could still see the televisions lights bouncing against the shadows of the surrounding forest. The second door entrance, the one closest to the staff area was mostly concealed by the gardens; it looked to lead to the basement as it was accessed from a handful of stairs leading down from the rear gardens. The door would not provide a quick path from the staff living room to the back yard of the Mansion.
While Clyde was this close to the back of the house he would inspect the windows, the entire home resembled a fortress. Clyde emerged from the tree line onto the back yard, some seventy five feet from the bank of Garden doors off the Great Hall. This room was the mansions center piece, located in the center back of the large home. Slowly, Clyde made his way to the closest sculpture and accompanying shrubs, by his fourth step onto the plush cut lawns of the Winston estate the back yard erupted in a sea of light.
Clyde instantly dove back into a nearby bush, crouching down in the darkness. Clyde would make his way swiftly back to the chain link fence which he quickly scaled, he continued to keep an eye towards the Mansion, waiting for the guard to appear. Looking across his left shoulder as he ran, searching for any sign of the tall man he had seen earlier. Moving from tree to tree he would make his way back to the maple tree where he had left the bag with the portable tree stand. Stopping momentarily after grabbing the tree stand to look up at the house, it was now in
awash in light from a multitude of high intensity flood lights. The Flood lights illuminated not only the entire façade of the great structure which looked like some impenetrable mid evil fortress, but a number of lights illuminated the entire back yard area, casting long beams of light well into the surrounding forest as well.
Concealed power shutters hidden above each of the Mansions windows had begun to close, traveling down the concealed rails along each window as they rolled in unison down across all the windows of the mansion. By the time Clyde made it back to the maple tree, every one of the windows had disappeared now completely sealed off by the power security shutters.
Taking one last look at the Mansion Clyde swung the bag over his shoulder, he watched as the security guard standing at the doorway that only moments earlier he had hoped to inspect. Good luck getting in there, Clyde thought as he watched the security guard for the next few minutes from the safety of the darkness well back into the forest. The guard would return inside after a few minutes, the bright lights continued to glow as Clyde made his way back to the bicycle at the back of the neighboring estate.
The bicycle ride back to the truck along the small quiet roads of the Hunt Club area was uneventful. Clyde encountered three cars on the ride back to the old Ford; Clyde could hear the cars approaching for miles allowing plenty of time to disappear into the mature forest before the cars would pass by.
After throwing the bike into the box of the pickup, Clyde headed north away from the city. Clyde would continue north for about sixteen miles before turning west and eventually back tracking back into the city along Lake Ontario. There were plenty of alternative routes Clyde could take to make his way back to the rental from Harry Winslow’s estate, his primary concern was just getting as far away from the Mansion without heading directly back into the city. It would be from those city streets that the Police would be responding to an emergency call from the mansion.
Tonight’s drive added some twenty six minutes to the drive compared to how long Clyde had taken to drive directly through the city to Harry Winslow’s Mansion earlier in the evening. Clyde knew he would require a minimum of between six to eight hours to complete the entire murder of Harry Winslow. This from the very start when he left the rental, to the time it would take for the killing and then return back to the townhouse.
It was two forty six AM when Clyde returned to his townhouse, he would not make it farther than the living room couch falling asleep while still wearing all his clothes and boots he had been wearing all night. Waking up shortly after nine the following morning, Clyde cursed himself for being late for class and quickly dialed the number to the funeral home. The second Clyde knew it was me that picked up the receiver, he said hurriedly.
“I need my riffle down here today or Wednesday at the latest, plus can you bring down my camo hat out of my bedroom closet? I forgot to pack it.”
“Your rifle? Holly Christ Clyde, be careful what you are talking about on the phone, Fred could have been on the other line. What the hell you need a gun for? Has there been trouble?” I questioned back but was cut off immediately by Clyde.
“Listen I don’t have time to explain right now I’m late for class, just do as I say and bring the gun. The box of ammunition and the camo hat are all in my bedroom closet. I need my deer rifle, you know which one that is right?”
“Yaa, I know the one. I hope…”
“Leave the riffle and cartridges under my bed if I’m not around, I’m also going to need you to be down here on Thursday night be here for five pm. Trust me it’s the only way, I gotta go I am late like hell for class.” and at that Clyde hung up the receiver before I was able to respond a yes, no or maybe before the line went dead.
I have to admit, Clyde requesting a gun unnerved me that day, I kept busy around the Funeral Home trying to put what was about to happen out of my mind. There was no question that if Clyde chose to use a gun there would certainly be a murder investigation.
The next murder would be far from the lack of drama and suspicion which surrounded the death of old lady Preston. Damn I hope you know what you are doing Clyde, I would think after receiving that phone call. As I sat there reading the details of that second murder in Clyde’s file it brought that whole series of events all back to me with such clarity. The service for both Ken Barry and our latest disposal would take place the same day Clyde had called looking for his riffle, meaning I would have a busy and long day.
The Barry funeral was set to take place at eleven in the morning, with the second Funeral taking place at three pm. Fred was beside himself having two services on the same day, this had not happened at the Shackles Funeral Home for years. Watching Fred work away that day I realized it was a shame that Fred could not control his gambling, he was good at his profession. Following the pair of services I would need to take the body’s on a forty minute drive to the nearest crematorium. After both body’s had been disposed of at the Crematorium I would carry on in the service van to the city with the riffle, ammo and camo hat for Clyde.
Thankfully the service for both funerals that day proceeded as planed and contained no surprises, this despite the large amount of people who were in attendance they cleared out from both funerals quickly. Once the Funeral Home had cleared out I would get on the road to the Crematorium shortly after five in the evening. I would arrive at the crematorium just in time to drop off the second cadaver, before they locked the doors at six in the evening.
The transfer of the two bodies went quickly; Fred had been upset with me before I had left after I had placed the body in basically a glorified cardboard box to transport them down to the crematorium. In the past Fred had burned the entire casket when sending his bodies to the Crematorium, a practice we could not afford if we wanted to pay Vito back any time soon.
“Both of these customers paid dearly for this service Jack, don’t you think she should remain in the expensive casket they ordered for the service and cremation?”
“Shit Fred it’s a box that’s going to be burnt to ashes anyway, besides the family and friends will have no clue they are not being burnt in those caskets. It is not as if they will be traveling to the crematorium with the body. Get real here, if we all did not have our financial backs against the wall I would not have to pull tricks like this to make some extra bucks. Little late on the bleeding heart ethical shit Fred. They all still end up a pile of ashes in an urn to be stored in the mausoleum or placed on a mantle or in a closet. Who the hell is going to know the difference?”
“Well it’s highly inappropriate and I do not agree with this one bit. It’s not how we do things here. I want no part of it; this is your baby then.”
“Listen Fred, considering the fucking mess we are all in right now is because you are a habitual gambler and a bad one at that. Your right this is my baby so shut the fuck up and help me lift the body into this coffin.”
“Coffin? Is that what you call this cardboard box?”
“Like I said, shut the fuck up and help me lift him into the box.” The tone of my response was enough to finally keep Fred quiet as we removed Ken Barry from the maple and chrome casket, with its fine silk lined interior into the thinly braced box of chip board and reinforced cardboard with no liner.
“I may not return until later tonight, I’m heading out after I drop the last body off at the roasters.”
“Fine”
“Can you get us set up for the service tomorrow? I may not be back in time for the visiting tonight at 7 pm” I added as Fred disappeared behind the solid doors at the rear of the Funeral Home. Fred did not turn nor respond he simply raised his left arm in a half wave gesture; he was still sickened by the casket shuffle.
The crematorium was some one hundred and sixty kilometers from the city of Toronto, after leaving both bodies from that day at the crematorium I headed immediately to Clyde’s rental townhouse. Clyde was gone from the townhouse when I arrived, so I placed the riffle along with the ammunition below his bed. The camo hat I threw on top of the unma
de bed.
I checked the base of his bed side lamp for money; Clyde had almost five hundred so I did not leave him any more cash. After making a sandwich in Clyde’s kitchen I locked the place back up and drove back to the funeral home, wondering the whole way home what Clyde had planned. After the busiest week the Shackles Funeral Home had ever seen, I needed to get back to Largo and help Fred get the place cleaned up, there would be more calls coming in very soon.
Turns out from the file that Clyde had in fact left the townhouse only minutes prior to my arrival, having showered he had quickly completed his school assignments before loading the tree stand and bicycle into the box of the old Ford pickup. Once again for the drive north to Harry Winslow’s estate, Clyde would drive up through the heart of the city towards the township containing the Winslow Mansion. For more than an hour Clyde drove the streets of the Hunt Club, making note of where and how many police vehicles were present.
As dusk turned into full darkness, Clyde made his way back to the far edge of the business section of town where asphalt and buildings turns to trees and brush. Clyde parked two concessions over from the Winslow mansions street, parking the Ford off the same dirt road he had traveled down the prior evening. Discovering a different opening in the forest, Clyde tucked the pickup well off the road well into the heavy brush.
Clyde preferred the last location better, so he would not use it again until Thursday night. That would be the night he planned to gun down Harry Winslow. Removing the bike and stand from the rear of the pickup, Clyde rode back to the rear of the Winslow estate. Cycling down the same back roads before stopping to leave the bike part of the way through the forest, from there Clyde would make his way back to the same large maple tree. By the time he had scaled the tree and set the tree stand in place, it would be some two hours earlier than his arrival the previous night.