Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  “Was it Rob?”

  “No, not Rob. It was Earl, the egg guy.”

  “The fucking egg guy?” Lonnie jumped to his feet and knocked his chair over.

  “Mr. Lyons stuck a big screwdriver in his chest and killed him. I saw him lying on the kitchen floor.”

  “You were over there?” Lonnie tore at his hair while he paced back and forth.

  “She was screaming in the night and I ran over with Ted and the gun.”

  “Fuck, Gracie. You could have been killed.” Lonnie gasped for air and pointed at me. “I’m never leaving you here alone again.”

  “The egg man is dead. That should be the end of it.”

  “Can they prove that he attacked April too?” Lonnie was shouting again.

  “I don’t know.” My eyes filled with tears again.

  “You’re upset. I’m sorry, baby. Let’s have a beer and change the subject until I calm down.”

  “Let’s. I’m on edge. I didn’t sleep much and I was in the city all morning. I’m tired, and I needed you to come home. That’s what I needed the most.” I sat on Lonnie’s knee, my face buried in his neck.

  After a late dinner, we took coffee onto the deck and Lonnie stared at all the news vehicles and sound trucks lined up on the highway. “How long have they been out there?” He frowned.

  “Since dawn. They can’t get into the park, although one guy tried to wave me over to the fence.”

  “Did you have to give a statement to the police?” Lonnie reached over and stroked my hair.

  “Yes, I did that this afternoon. Spangler and McMurtry came at three o’clock.” I pulled Ted closer to my chair.

  Lonnie frowned. “Paradise has gone to Hell.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  HAROLD DEEGAN CALLED an emergency meeting of the residents of Paradise Park for eight o’clock. Two weeks had passed and the park had all but returned to normal. The TV vans and the persistent reporters had moved on to another story, newer and juicier than Paradise had to offer. Melba Grayson had come home from the hospital and her sister, Tara was staying with her for a couple of weeks.

  The stress and pressure of the recent past pressed heavily on Harold’s chest as he limped to the podium. He seemed to be relying more and more on his cane for support. “Good evening, folks.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “The last couple of months have been extremely trying for you good people trying to live normal quiet lives in the park, but things have been progressing well thanks to the diligence of the police and the danger has passed. Detective Spangler would like to say a few things before our regular meeting and I’ll turn the floor over to her.”

  Spangler walked to the front of the hall in her tailored pale blue suit and stood beside Harold. “My partner, Detective McMurtry and I want to thank all of the residents of Paradise Park for their co-operation over the past few weeks. The department has officially closed the two rape cases citing Earl Galloway as the perpetrator of the crimes. There was enough forensic evidence to positively identify him as the rapist in both cases.”

  “It wasn’t Mr. Eastman’s brother?” asked Barkley.

  “Definitely not,” said Spangler. Mr. Eastman’s brother was not involved. She continued, “Mr. Lyons has been exonerated of the charges against him. It was deemed by the crown prosecutor’s office that he was acting in self-defense on behalf of himself and his neighbor in a life-threatening situation.” Spangler smiled at Arthur and all the residents clapped for him.

  “There is nothing new to report on the disappearance of Mrs. Plimpton, I’m afraid, and the case remains open.”

  “What about the drowned dogs?” shouted Mrs. Forsythe.

  “The dogs couldn’t be positively identified,” said McMurtry.

  “Pretty big coincidence,” hollered Mr. Fishburn.

  Detective Spangler didn’t comment.

  Harold shook hands with both Detectives. “Thank you, Detectives for your hard work and hopefully we won’t have any more trouble.”

  McMurtry and Spangler left and the regular meeting was called to order.

  “Folks, we had new people move in this week. I want to introduce you to Betty Farrell’s daughter, Winona who moved into her mother’s trailer.”

  Winona stood up and everyone clapped. She was tall and slim with straight dark hair and her lovely long neck was weighted down with costume jewelry. She sat next to Barkley Campbell.

  “Next, we have…” Harold looked at his clipboard for help, “Tina Rodriguez and her daughter. They moved in on Maple Street down near the gate. Would you stand up, Tina?” Harold asked.

  Tina stood and most of the men craned their necks to see her. She was wearing short shorts and a halter top that barely held her upper assets in place. Her waist and hips were fairly narrow, so the enhancements to her bust made her look like she might topple over. She had long bleached platinum hair, fiery red lips and a not so pretty face.

  “And finally, we have Mr. and Mrs. Mancuso who have moved down here from Bancroft.” They were an older couple. He was fat and nearly bald and she was almost the same size with dyed red hair. “They moved into the trailer that was for sale next to Miss Whitmarsh on Hickory Lane.” Everyone gave them a round of applause.

  “That’s about it for tonight, folks,” said Harold. “Call me if you have any problems.” I know you will anyway.

  GARY HADN’T TAKEN his eyes off his new neighbor since she stood up on display when Harold introduced her. He hadn’t paid much attention when she was moving in because he didn’t want to offer to slug boxes. Manual labor grated against his very nature. Now he was eyeballing her ass as she strutted ahead of him down Maple Street on her way home from the meeting. He felt compelled to introduce himself since they were going to be next door neighbors and hopefully more than just friends.

  “Hey, wait up,” he hollered and tried to run. Having a considerable beer belly and never having exercised a day in his life, rendered him breathless as he reached her side.

  Tina stopped and waited for him.

  “I’m Gary Eastman, your neighbor. I thought we could walk home together.”

  “Hi. I’m Tina,” she said with a smile.

  Gary got a good look at her face under the street light and decided it was better to look at her body. Her nose was too big for her face and he’d only had a quick glance, but he thought her eyes might have been looking in two different directions. When they reached his trailer, he made his move.

  “Want to have a beer with me on the deck?” he asked.

  “Okay, thanks. But only one. My daughter is watching TV in our trailer by herself.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Old enough to take care of herself.”

  “Sometimes,” said Tina. She sat in one of the plastic chairs while Gary went inside for drinks.

  “Who’s out there?” asked Rob when Gary came inside.

  “Our new neighbor and she’s mine. Totally. No question. Hands off her.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t want to put my hands on her, bro.”

  “You would. Trust me.” Gary grabbed two cans from the fridge.

  “I’m coming out to meet her.”

  Gary held a hand up. “Don’t. I’m warning you.”

  “Try to stop me.” Rob grabbed a beer and barreled out the door. He sat down in the chair closest to Tina to piss his brother off and grinned at the lady. “Hi. I’m Rob.”

  “Hi Rob. Gary invited me for a beer.”

  “I can see why. You’re definitely his type.”

  Tina smiled thinking it was a compliment. Gary came out with beer in a glass and a can for himself. “Here you go, Tina. I see you met my brother.”

  “I did. Thanks for the beer.”

  “Anytime. We’re neighbors now and neighbors share.”

  “What do neighbors share?” asked Rob with a chuckle.

  “They share beer and food and good times,” said Gary.

  “Uh huh,” said Rob.

 
; “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

  “Nope, I’m good.” Rob broke into a grin. Nothing pleased him more than getting under his brother’s skin.

  Tina smiled, and Rob figured she was a good match for Gary. She was a double S and so was his brother. Only two driving factors in both their lives. Sex and stupidity.

  BARKLEY LEFT THE meeting hall close on the heels of Winona Farrell. He had met her on occasion when she had visited her mother at the trailer next door, and they had had conversations in the past about his garden. Casual conversation—nothing more. Barkley had attended Betty’s funeral with many of the other long-time residents and had renewed his acquaintance with Winona.

  Tall and long-legged, Winona was striding swiftly to her abode when Barkley fell into step beside her. “I’m so happy you decided to take up residence here in Paradise,” he said, slightly out of breath.

  “Nothing for me anymore in the city. Sick to death of the traffic and the noise.”

  “Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better.” They had almost reached Barkley’s driveway. “Perhaps you would enjoy a cup of tea or a veggie cocktail?”

  “I am thirsty. The meeting hall was warm. Nice of you to offer Mr. Campbell.”

  “Barkley, please.” He swept his arm in a welcoming gesture and Winona mounted the four steps to his deck. “Indoors or el fresco?”

  “Perhaps inside. The mosquitoes are out tonight and attacking with a vengeance.”

  Barkley smiled. He didn’t entertain too often. Hard to find anyone worthy of his attention. He held the door for his female guest.

  “What a lovely room, Barkley. So tasteful and comfortable. And oh, my—what a gorgeous pussycat.” Winona stroked Saffron while Barkley beamed with pride.

  He was proud of the ambiance that he had achieved in the trailer. Not an easy feat working with such limited dimensions. April had painted the walls in a soft, creamy green and Barkley had kept the furnishings to a minimum to emphasize the space that he had. An electric fireplace with an ornate mantle was the piece de résistance and made the whole room work.

  “Make yourself at home, Winona. I’ll fix our drinks.”

  EDGAR WAS PISSED at Mrs. Forsythe for shouting out about the dogs at the meeting. He wanted to shut her up in the worst way, but kept his cool. He left the meeting early and waited on Sheila’s deck for her and Marg to walk home.

  “Hey, Edgar.” Sheila sounded surprised to see him sitting in one of her chairs.

  “Hey girls. Useless meeting. They get worse all the fuckin time.”

  “They seem to,” agreed Sheila. “Want a drink, Eddie?”

  “Sure. That would be nice.”

  “I’ll make a pitcher,” said Marg and Sheila grinned.

  “Marg is so good at whipping up those margaritas.”

  Edgar relaxed a little after his first drink. “I was thinking, girls.”

  “Yeah, what were you thinking?” Sheila smirked.

  Edgar pulled Marg onto his knee and cuddled her. She giggled and spilled a little of her cocktail.

  “I was thinking I’d take you two girls fishing tomorrow. How would you like a day on the lake away from the park?”

  “That would be fun,” said Marg. “I like boats.”

  “I’m not busy tomorrow,” said Sheila, “or the day after.” She started giggling.

  “Pick both of you up at eight.”

  “In the morning?” asked Marg with a scowl.

  LONNIE AND GRACE sauntered back to their trailers hand in hand. The summer evening was warm but a light breeze made the humidity bearable. “What did you think of Gary’s new neighbor?” Lonnie asked with a wink.

  “She looked…interesting.”

  “Yeah, interesting as in working girl or exotic dancer ‘interesting.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” said Grace. “Maybe she’s a nurse or something.”

  “Or something.”

  “Our new neighbors look normal. That’s the main thing. The Mancusos seem like a nice couple.”

  “For sure. Hickory Lane is the only sane street in the whole messed up park.”

  “Now that the rape cases are officially closed, do you think Rob will come back to Gary’s?”

  “Are you worrying about that, baby?” Lonnie slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer.

  “Not worrying, because he wasn’t the rapist, but it crossed my mind.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EDGAR PULLED HIS truck up in front of Sheila’s trailer at eight in the morning. The sun was a huge fireball in a cloudless sky and the air was clear—the day showed a lot of promise. He had made sandwiches from fresh white bread, sliced tomatoes and lettuce grown in his own garden and packed the cooler full of beer, water and dandelion wine.

  He was wearing a new red cotton shirt under his overalls and on his head of wiry gray hair was perched his lucky fishing hat decorated with lures. He smiled as he inhaled the healthy dose of cologne he had splashed on his neck after shaving. Edgar had it all figured out—single women wanted to get drunk and have sex. That’s what they did on TV and that’s what he intended to provide. He jumped out of his truck and swaggered up the steps onto Sheila’s deck. He was whistling as he knocked on the screen door.

  Sheila pulled the inside door open and smiled. “We’re almost ready, Ed. Can you drink a coffee while we wait for Marg?”

  “Sure,” he said anxious to get the big day underway.

  “What should we bring?”

  “Think I’ve got everything covered,” he said. “Food and drinks. Rods, tackle and live bait. You might want sun screen or a hat or something like that.”

  “I have a hat and sunglasses,” said Sheila dressed in khaki shorts and a red tank top.

  Marg made her debut decked out in denim cut-offs and a camo t-shirt. She wasn’t looking too perky.

  “Come on Marg,” hollered Edgar, “we’re gonna have a great time.”

  “Marg’s not a morning person,” said Sheila.

  “What if I don’t want to fish?” Marg sounded surly.

  “Doesn’t matter. You can get drunk and get a tan.”

  Marg smiled as if that might suit her better. “Yeah, you read my mind, Edgar. I can do that.”

  Sheila locked up and by the time she reached Edgar’s truck, Marg had already taken the shotgun seat, had a foot up on the dash and was lighting up a smoke.

  “Mind if I smoke in your truck, Ed?”

  “Don’t mind if you blow the smoke out the window.”

  “What if I blow smoke on you, Eddie?” Marg asked in her coy ‘little girl’ voice.

  Sheila’s face showed her disapproval.

  “Then I’ll shove you out of the truck,” he said with a little snicker.

  Sheila winked at Edgar in the rear-view mirror.

  THE TINY FISHING boat floated around on the lake in the unrelenting sun for hours and Edgar had only caught one fish. A lake trout—pretty fish but not a big one. Marg was drunk and leaned haphazardly on the trolling motor in the stern half-asleep with her ball cap pulled down over her eyes. Sheila’s incessant chatter pushed Edgar to the edge of sanity and the more wine he drank, the more he wanted her to shut up. He had made his choice and decided on Marg. She was quiet, not as smart as Sheila—therefore easier to manipulate and she would be the better lay. Sheila was ugly, way too skinny and she never stopped talking. He’d have to get rid of her when they got back to the park.

  “Had enough fishing girls?” he hollered.

  Marg sat bolt upright and Edgar noticed how sunburned her face was, even under her hat. “Yep.”

  “I didn’t catch one fucking fish,” grumbled Sheila.

  “But you had fun, right girl?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “The sandwiches were good and the wine was stellar.”

  Edgar eased Marg over a few inches, away from the motor. She was as limp as Raggedy Annie. He started the seven horse Johnson and steered the little boat to shore.

 
; The girls dozed most of the way home from the lake, sunburned and tired from their day on the water. Edgar stopped in front of Sheila’s trailer and both girls got out.

  “Thanks, Edgar,” hollered Sheila. “I had fun.”

  “Me too,” said Marg.

  AFTER SHEILA WENT to bed, Marg slipped out the kitchen door and walked down Hickory Lane in the dark. She knocked softly on Edgar’s door and he let her in.

  “I thought maybe you changed your mind,” he said.

  “No way. Just waiting for her to go to bed.”

  He grabbed her in a bear hug and kissed her. “Come on in and have a drink.”

  Marg grinned and walked into the lion’s den.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sheila pulled her Toyota into Edgar’s yard at the end of Hickory Lane. Marg and Edgar were drinking coffee on Edgar’s newly emptied porch and Sheila barely gave them a glance. She opened the trunk of her car and threw all of Marg’s clothes and personal stuff on the ground in one big heap. “You sneaky ungrateful bitch,” Sheila hollered. “Don’t ever set foot on my property again.”

  “Guess she’s mad at you,” said Edgar squeezing Marg’s chubby hand.

  “Looks like it,” said Marg with a smirk.

  Sheila spun her tires in the gravel and stones hit the porch railing like hailstones.

  “You better move in with me, honey,” said Edgar with a grin. “Looks like Sheila’s mad enough to kill you.”

  BARKLEY AND WINONA were enjoying coffee at the table in the garden when Sheila roared by.

  “The speed limit in the park is ten miles per hour,” said Barkley, “I’ll have to call Harold and report Ms. Warren. She’s clearly breaking one of the rules.”

  “Do you need to do that, Barkley?” asked Winona. “Sheila was yelling a moment ago over at Edgar’s place. She’s upset about something and wasn’t thinking about her speed.”