CHAPTER NINETEEN
Heidi Launer was furious. It was the second time that day she had spotted the old man’s dog wandering the park, unleashed and unaccompanied, pooping everywhere and digging around. How dare Ignatius Jackson allow his dog free, and have full access to the park unattended? Obviously the dog was just being released into Jackson’s yard and then crawling through the railings separating the yard from the park and having a free run of things. It was disgusting. She would make a point of informing Carla and Cindy of what she had seen, and no doubt another strongly worded letter would be drafted and delivered to the home of the offender.
Heidi had other things to worry about; a more pressing matter. Stefan to be exact. She
had not failed to notice his tattoo and knew what it signified. Her mind had been racing from the moment she had met him a few days previously in the park. Was there a chance he knew her true identity? Was it just too much of a coincidence that, from nowhere, into her neighborhood appears this man, a so-called “holocaust” survivor? Not, thought Heidi, that there had been such a thing. It was all lies. Propaganda and fantasy, created by the Zionists to garner sympathy. She had her son Stephen do some investigating into the man, not that she had any faith in his abilities, especially after she had wasted all that money paying for Elliott to be killed, which of course hadn’t happened.
Anyway, that aside, she really had no choice but to involve her son; he had the means and abilities to carry out background checks on anybody without inducing suspicion. Though he hadn’t much to go on. She didn’t even know his surname, and of course as he was foreign, so there would be no records of him in any system, not in the United States at least. Of course she had not been surprised when her son had reported back that there was no record of anyone called Stefan, who matched the description Heidi had given her son, on any database he could access. In fact, there was no record of him anywhere, no record of him arriving in the country. He was obviously not who he said he was, which begged the question, to Heidi anyway, what the heck did he want?
She could have called Brenda Carter, in whose house he was living. Maybe she had more details about Stefan. She couldn’t rely on Cindy’s information; it was always wrong or missing details. Heidi decided, though, that she wouldn’t call Brenda. She hardly knew her anyway, and if she did start asking questions, there was nothing to prevent Brenda from calling her tenant and alerting him that one of his neighbors was poking about in his business. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know that she was on to him.
Heidi could only guess as to who he really was. He was probably one of those Nazi hunters, probably an agent of Israel. He was no doubt a spy; he was definitely here for her. He was going to expose her true identity; he was going to tell the world about everything. He was going to ruin her, destroy her life, or maybe worse. What if he was here to kill her? What if he was here for revenge? What was their saying, ‘an eye for eye’? Well, she wouldn’t give him or them the satisfaction. She would take matters into her own hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Billy Malphrus stared at the plastic bag containing the rat poison he had just purchased from the hardware store. His plan was simple. He would make lemonade. Really, how hard could it be? He would then add enough rat poison to the concoction to kill his aunt. He would of course take precautions. He would pour the undrunk lemonade down the kitchen sink; he would remove all trace of the rat poison from the house. There was no way he could be caught. Billy would then inherit everything. He would sell the house, have the dog destroyed and spend his aunt’s money having fun and living a life of unbridled luxury. She was old anyway, and it wasn’t as if anyone would miss her. No, it was a simple plan, and that’s how he liked things, nice and simple. He would of course act devastated and garner sympathy from everyone. Then he would move on, traveling the world, living the life he deserved, never having to work and struggle again.
If only his Aunt Cindy had maybe shared a little more. It was all well and good her taking him in whenever he needed it, and of course feeding him, and not to mention donating to his fake charities, but if she really cared for him she should have given him more money, maybe set up an allowance for him. She didn’t need much, whereas he did. He needed fancy clothes, a fast car, and the opportunity to live life in the fast lane. He was sick of working dead-end jobs and then having to pretend to be other people. He wanted to actually be those people. Billy Malphrus was motivated by one thing, and it certainly wasn’t hatred for Cindy, though he was growing to hate her. No, Billy Malphrus was motivated by one thing… greed.
The hardest part of this plan, thought Billy, would be making the lemonade. It would also cost money; lemons didn’t grow on trees, he thought. So he had spent the morning researching recipes online. Once confident he could produce tasty lemonade, with of course the added ingredient of rat poison, he headed out once again, this time to the grocery store to purchase lemons, sugar and sprigs (whatever they were) of mint and rosemary to add an extra bite, and hopefully mask the taste and smell of the poison he would add. His plan was to make a few batches of normal lemonade, without the added poison. He and his aunt would drink it together, he would offer to make more and more, and then, when the time was right, he would add the poison to the concoction and leave it in the refrigerator. Cindy would surely help herself to it, sooner or later, hopefully when he was not there. He wasn’t sure if he could actually stomach watching her splutter, throwing up, foaming at the mouth and then dropping dead in front of him.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Stefan sat quietly in his easy chair, a stern and serious look on his face. He had never been this close before, within virtual touching distance of his sworn enemy, or in this case, the closet living relative of his enemy. The pleasure he would get finally extracting revenge for the tragedy that befell his family would be worth everything; leaving his home country, traveling halfway around the world, living in this wretched hot place and this tiny house. He had never, in his wildest dreams, ever thought he would be so close. His family would be proud of him. Of course, it had cost him money, lots of it, obtaining the information he needed, but it was worth it, every single penny.
Out of habit he found himself stroking his tattoo as he contemplated his plan. He knew where she lived now, and he knew what she looked like. Of course, exacting revenge on the man directly responsible for the crime against his family was not possible, but this, at least, would restore his family’s honor. Once again, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. You could hide from your past, you could run from your past, but sooner or later, the past always catches up with you. Soon the past would catch up with her.
He rose from his seat, headed to his bedroom and reached under his bed, retrieving a wooden box. It had arrived earlier that morning, couriered from somewhere in Florida. He had purchased it online. He opened it and took out the silver Glock 19. He inspected the weapon. He had never fired a gun, but that didn’t faze him. It would be a close up shot. He couldn’t miss anyway. The gun was heavier than he had expected, which had surprised him. For some reason he had always thought a weapon like this would be lighter. He opened the second box, which lay next to the box containing the pistol. It contained six bullets, but he knew he would only need one. He lifted the weapon skywards, admiring its design. He stared at the gun, sunlight catching it, causing it to sparkle in his bedroom. He inspected it further and noticed the engraved “Made in Austria” imprint on the gun’s handle. He smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Kelly Hudd put her car into drive and reversed out of her parent’s driveway. She turned left and followed the signs for Interstate 16. Driving to Savannah was a weekly ritual for Kelly, something she had done every week, without fail, since Tom left her. She would make the three hour trip, and then resume her search. Despite Detective Morgan’s informing her that Tom was unlikely to be in Savannah, she hadn’t given up the hope that maybe she would spot him, maybe just casually walking along a downtown street, maybe at
the gym, maybe even in Gordonston. Every week though, her efforts were in vain. Often she would just park her car and sit in it crying. Sometimes, she would park her car opposite her increasingly deteriorating home and just quietly sob. Never once was she tempted to enter her former house. Many times, with Shmitty sitting beside her, Kelly supposing that he had no understanding of what was wrong with his mistress and why he couldn’t just go home, she had just stared at the once happy home. Shmitty must also be missing Tom, she thought, and probably his runs in the park. She was, though, always careful to ensure that she was never spotted by any of her former neighbors, not that they would recognize her anyway, not now she had put on weight.
This trip, she had promised herself, would be different. She had booked a room at a motel and would this time really search for Tom. She would spend four days in Savannah before returning to her parent’s home. She would not sit in her car and sob, she would not feel sorry for herself. This time she would actually search for him, night and day, everywhere, she might even force herself to go inside their former and abandoned house. She desperately wanted to see Tom; she needed at least an explanation, and she needed to hear it from him that it was over. Maybe if she did find him, she could reason with him, convince him she had been duped, maybe deny anything he had heard. Maybe there was a slim chance that this all could be fixed. With Shmitty in the passenger seat, she put her foot on the gas pedal and accelerated.
As she headed eastward, Kelly was not sure what she would even say to Tom, if she even found him. She had no defense for what she had done, for cheating on her husband, and of course the fact she had cheated on her husband with their neighbor’s nasty looking nephew just made things worse. Kelly tried to put herself into Tom’s position; what if he had cheated on her with a neighbor, someone not half as attractive as she? She would be devastated, embarrassed and would probably have done what Tom had done, just run away. She considered turning the car around and returning to Atlanta. Maybe it was best to let things be. Maybe Tom was justified in leaving her, and no denials or begging for forgiveness would ever convince him that he could trust his wife again.
What hurt Kelly most was that he hadn’t even confronted her, never even mentioning the fact he knew, and had just left. Another question Kelly had, was of course, how had he found out? Had that sniveling little bastard next door told him? Had she somehow left a clue? Had someone from the hotel in France called her husband, anonymously, out of spite? Maybe that receptionist, who was obviously sleeping with the concierge. Kelly dismissed the notion, it was as preposterous as her being a model, and Billy Malphrus being a count. No. It had to have been Billy Malphrus who had told Tom, since he was the only one who knew. If only they, whoever they were, had killed him as she had paid them to. If only she had acted quicker. If she had known this was going to happen, she would have done it herself, killed Malphrus, how she didn’t know, but she would have found a way, maybe poisoned the little cretin.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“Chief, sir, please, why on earth are you giving me the Derepaska case? It is closed, finished. What can I do?”
Chief Taylor did not care much for Detective Jeff Morgan; he was overweight, lazy, a poor detective and suffered from offensive body odor. The fact that Morgan was now complaining about being given the Derepaska file actually gave Taylor a feeling of pleasure. Though he knew that this was merely a paper exercise, a public relations stunt, and that the street robber who had murdered the poor Russian visitor for his watch was highly likely to remain at liberty, he felt that was something Morgan need not know.
“Listen,” replied Taylor, as he sat behind his desk, “I want this solved. I want you to dedicate your fullest efforts on solving this. Interview every known mugger, robber and potential suspect currently on file. Re-interview witnesses. Re-interview potential witnesses. I want your full concentration on this one.”
Morgan shrugged. “Come on, boss, give me a break, why me?”
“Because you are my best man and this comes from the Mayor. He wants this re-investigated and solved, and his exact words to me were ‘put your best man on the job’ – you are that man,” lied Taylor. “He also mentioned you by name, seems he thinks you are up to the task.”
Morgan straightened in his seat and smiled. Wow, so the Chief thought he was his best man. Even the Mayor had spotted his potential. Well, if that was indeed the case, that put a whole new perspective on the situation.
“Well,” said Morgan, his attitude and demeanor suddenly improved, “I have just recently solved a double missing person puzzle. Two fellas from Gordonston; ran off together, closet gays, put two and two together and worked that one out pretty quickly,” he boasted.
“Good for you, Detective,” said Chief Taylor, who did not have the remotest interest in any case or cases Morgan was working on. “See? That’s why you are my best man. Despite what everyone says about you.”
Morgan’s smile vanished. “What does everyone say about me?” he asked, suddenly feeling deflated.
Taylor shrugged. “Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant to say this is what everyone says about you, that you are my best man.”
Morgan’s smile returned and he stood up. “Leave it to me. If I can solve a double missing person case without even leaving my desk, then I am sure I can at least get somewhere on this.”
Chief Taylor nodded. “Well, off you go then, go get ‘em,” he said, indicating with his hand that it was time for Morgan to leave. “By the way, the Mayor wants to talk to you. He wants progress reports. Take this.” The Chief handed Morgan Elliott’s card. “Call him, he wants to set up a meeting.”
This was not the first time Morgan had been asked to work on a specific case by the Mayor. Four months earlier, Alderman Miller, now of course Mayor Miller, had accompanied Kelly Hudd when she had reported her husband missing. So the Mayor had taken a shine to him? And why wouldn’t he? Everyone liked him, he was popular, and a fine detective. Maybe this could be the boost he needed, maybe a promotion was on the cards?
He would take the opportunity of updating the Mayor on the Hudd/Partridge case. He would let him know that case was well and truly closed. That would surely impress Miller.
“Why are you still here?” asked the Chief, staring at Morgan, who in turn was staring into space, a stupid grin covering his face.
“Sorry, I’m leaving now,” he replied.
As soon as he left the Chief’s office, Sam Taylor opened up his desk drawer and retrieved some air freshener. Screwing up his face, he sprayed his office with a refreshing scent of lavender before replacing it back into his drawer.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“Oh, Billy, this tastes just wonderful,” said Cindy Mopper as she took another swig of Billy’s homemade lemonade. “You certainly are a man of many talents. That’s why I just love you so darn much,” she beamed as she finished off her glass.
Billy grinned and took a sip of lemonade; he had to agree with his aunt, it wasn’t half bad. “Well, that’s a whole jug we have drunk,” he said. “I will be sure to make a fresh batch for tomorrow, and the day after. I kind of enjoy making it, but what gives me the most pleasure is that you enjoy it.”
Cindy was ecstatic. She loved the fact Billy was here again in Savannah. Who could want for a better, kinder and loving nephew?
“Well, it is delicious,” said Cindy as she collected the dirty glasses and placed them in the dishwasher. “Let me give you $10, so I can contribute to the ingredients. Please, it’s the least I can do.”
Billy stared at his aunt’s back as she opened the dishwasher. Selfish horrible old woman, he thought, all I do for you and you offer me a measly ten bucks? The sooner you die the better, he thought. He was scowling. Cindy turned to face him and in an instant his smile returned.
“I just don’t know how you do it,” said Cindy with a smile. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“You know it’s nothing,” replied Billy. “Anything for you. Nothing is too much trouble, you know
that.”
“I know, Billy, I know it. It is such a comfort to me knowing that as I get older you will be around. I hope so anyway. To maybe care for me on a more permanent basis. I would love you to live here permanently. We could come to some sort of arrangement. I am not getting any younger and, what with your experience caring for others, you would make an ideal care giver for me, you know, when I eventually need it.”
The thought of caring for his aunt as she got even older appalled Billy. She had the audacity to ask him to feed her, clean her, and drive her around, as if he was some sort of home help? A servant? Was she mad? He stifled a smile. Not that it was ever going to happen anyway. She was not going to grow any older, and she certainly would not need any help.
“Wow, I would love that,” lied Billy as he took a final sip of his lemonade; before placing the empty glass into the dishwasher. “Maybe I should consider it. It would be my pleasure to live with you, and of course Paddy. I love him as much as you do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Carla Zipp had given up on men. She was sick of them. Always lying, trying to use her. She had finally realized that she was better off without them in her life. She had devoted too much time and effort in believing that her looks were her best asset. For heaven’s sake, she thought, she was 65, it was time she grew old gracefully and maybe followed the example of her friend Cindy. Cindy was happy, everybody liked her, and she wouldn’t even harm a fly. She had that wonderful nephew and had grown old gracefully. If Carla could turn back time, she would have never let herself become infatuated with Tom Hudd. She certainly would never have slept with him. She did not, however, regret having him killed. He had deserved it. He had crossed the wrong woman, a woman already once betrayed by a cheating husband, he too now dead.
Unleashed - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part 2 Page 11