Margaret rejoined them, “The house is beautiful, although it’s much larger than I ever expected you to buy while you’re still single. However, young man, even though you’re moving out on your own, I still expect to see you at least once a week for dinner and for birthdays and on Thanksgiving and Christmas with the rest of the family at our house.”
“Mom, there’s no way anyone could keep me away from your house for Thanksgiving Dinner.” He and Walter laughed and got to talking about the good food they were looking forward to. Then Clay addressed both of his parents, “But I would like to invite the entire family to come here for Christmas Eve for a family holiday party. We’ll still come to your house Christmas morning to open presents, but I want to start an annual pre party in the evening.”
Clay made all the catering arrangements and had the house decorated, and personally invited all of the family members. When the holiday was over he felt very proud of himself.
Chapter 23
A year earlier, on one of her trips home, Adrianna and Clay had exchanged business cards. He found it and gave her a call at her office. After the usual chit chat he told her he was flying to Florida for a few days and would like to stop over in Washington D.C. and take her to dinner. She sounded pleased and volunteered to pick him up at the airport. So, on Thursday afternoon he boarded a United Airlines flight out of Midway for D.C.
Clay wasn’t a novice at flying, but had butterflies in his stomach as the pilot taxied out to start the pre flight checks. When the plane turned from the approach onto the runway and the throttle of the jet engines was increased, he felt like a kid on his first flight; knowing it had little to do with flying. He had wanted to spend time with Adrianna for a long time, much longer than he wanted to admit to himself. Finally, with some degree of success he was in a position to approach her. Now he wouldn’t need to be ashamed to be seen with him, and would, hopefully, take him seriously since he had money and confidence in his position. He didn’t think Tony or Anna would have mentioned his other profession to her; he couldn’t think of any reason for it to be discussed. The view from the small window beside him quickly became bland once the plane rose above the clouds. Getting relaxed in the seat, he was content to think about the lovely vision he would soon see and touch.
As the arrival time came and passed Clay grew aggravated when the plane remained in a holding pattern. Didn't the pilot know it was important he be on time? He knew his impatience was due to the thought of Adrianna waiting for him in the airport and he didn’t want to inconvenience this special lady. When he finally stepped into the passenger loading/unloading area he immediately searched through the faces before him and saw her standing alone, back from the crowd. She was tall and slim, wearing navy slacks, a yellow shirt and a medium blue blazer. My God she’s beautiful, he thought as he crossed through the throng of arrivals and greeters to approach her.
Watching Clay emerge from the tunnel stirred emotions Adrianna had gradually come to feel for this long time family friend. She had admitted to herself several years ago she was drawn to Clay and had finally come to terms with it. After all, he was nice looking, pleasant to be with and her parents both liked him. She had never disclosed to either of them her romantic interest in him, but felt they would be pleased. When her father was hospitalized Anna had relied solely on Clay for support, and since the episode Clay was as close to Tony as Jimmy had been. Maybe, at some point Clay would even be invited to work for her father in some position of authority. Being attached to her parent’s life style didn’t bother her, and the cash benefits were enormous. She had been concerned about Clay’s income level until he had achieved a measure of success with the antiques business he had founded. Previously, when he had been a common laborer she had expelled any thought of sharing a relationship with him. She was a high dollar catch and had far higher expectations than a construction worker could ever hope to fulfill. And he would be expected to provide not only for her, but also for the children she longed to have. Yes, Mrs. Clayton Albrecht definitely had a favorable ring to it.
Adrianna suggested an Italian restaurant close to her apartment, away from the heavy traffic of downtown Washington. During dinner, and later over another bottle of wine, they spoke of happenings in their lives since she had left home for college and a career.
At her apartment they sat and continued talking until two in the morning. During some heavy necking she silently indicated it was time to move to her bedroom. Both were apprehensive and held back from the volatile contact they craved, and felt sure the other could provide.
When the alarm sounded at six thirty Adrianna woke long enough to dial a number and leave a message saying she was sick and wouldn’t be at the office, and then returned to sleeping.
She became aware of a warmth pressing against her backside and a hand gently exploring the front of her body. Before opening her eyes she realized the sun was up and filling the room with light. She was about to attack Clay, and this morning there would be no holding back. Last night he had proven to be an adequate lover, soft, tender and considerate. Now she would learn if he could fuel the wild passion she would demand of a lover and future husband.
Chapter 24
In late April 1975 Clay received a call from Mickey necessitating a trip to Atlanta Georgia to make a local black sheriff disappear. He decided he would have to start charging more to stage accidental deaths; they required much more detailed planning and introduced a higher level of risk to him. Shooting someone in the back of the head or from a distance was much simpler than staging an accident. Since the Sheriff was known to be an avid sportsman and re-loader, staging an explosion was simple and let him enter the Sheriff’s trailer alone to rig the powder storage to explode. Unfortunately for them, his wife and two deputies were in the trailer with the sheriff when it blew.
He had driven his truck and stopped on the way south at many out of the way antique shops. His time was well spent as he had found some interesting pieces of furniture and glassware as well as some cheaper collectible items he was sure he could make several hundred percent profit on. The antique business was going well and his shop employees were performing better than expected. Gladys Tucker had proven to be his most dependable employee and had taken the lead on solving several problems when they had become evident. She had been the only logical choice to be promoted to shop manager and he was pleased to be able to leave for weeks on end with the business in her capable hands. He was so pleased he rewarded her performance and promotion with a sixty percent raise.
Knowing everything was under control at the shop he decided to swing to the east and attempt to find his war school mentors, Joe and Joan. It had been a little over two years since he had left them, and he was eager to see them or learn they had reached their goals and moved on. Knowing his large cargo truck would be the wrong vehicle on the gravel and dirt roads he would be traversing, he decided to park it in Knoxville. At the fourth small car lot he stopped at he talked the owner into renting him an older four wheel drive ex-military Jeep for a week. Cash does talk. He took off in search of his friends, enjoying the wind in his hair in the July heat. He wasn’t sure of exactly where he was going, but had a vague idea of the location of Joe’s place. If he couldn’t find the compound in a couple of days he would call Tony and see if he still had the phone number.
After following the bus route out of Knoxville he turned north after what he hoped was an appropriate distance. The rest of the day was spent traveling on blacktop and gravel roads looking for landmarks to tweak his memory. Near dusk he found a small fleabag motel and ate cold cuts from a small grocery store. The store was attached to the only gas station in the town of one hundred thirteen people. Since the county was dry, a beer with supper was out of the question. The only good thing to come out of the experience was when he learned the motel office had a detailed map of the area on the wall and he was able to make a rough sketch from it. The map showed not only the roadways but also the logging and fire trails through the forest. Ba
sed on his assumption of where he and Joan had departed the bus and where he was staying, he felt he had a fair idea of where he would find them.
Through out the following morning Clay drove roads in the area he thought to be in the right location. Shortly after one o'clock he drove down a blacktop road that turned into a gravel road. Four miles further on, a dirt trail crossed the road at right angles. If this was the right road he had overlooked the compound, which should have been on his left. He had not seen any buildings resembling those he was searching for. Turning around he drove back seven miles and then saw a rock outcropping on the left just across from a private lane. The rock feature was barely visible from the other direction but was prominent now. He was positive this was the entrance to Joe’s place.
Half way down the private lane he was able to make out the skeletal steel frame of a building through the trees. Then he saw a single white house trailer with a car in front of it ahead in the clearing. Before he entered the clearing a knot formed in his stomach and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. In front of him were the burned out remains of the log cabin, garages and training building. Clay stopped the Jeep at the edge of the clearing and sat staring at the ruins, not wanting to accept what could have happened. As he sat there with the engine running a figure opened the door of the trailer and started down the metal steps in front of it.
“Hello there,” a man probably in his early sixties yelled.
Directing his attention toward the figure Clay noticed an insignia on the car; a deputy county sheriff. Warily he replied, “Good afternoon.”
“What can I do for you?” the man asked. He was a thin wiry man about five feet ten inches, wearing slip on boots, jeans and a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Clay noticed a revolver stuck in the waistband of his jeans on the left side.
“Well, not much from the looks of this. The people who lived here,” Clay pointed to the ruins, “let me hunt deer on their property two seasons back. I was hoping to hunt here again this season; I didn’t even learn their last name.”
“The name was Whitlock; Gerald and Julie Whitlock.”
“What happened, did they move?” Clay dreaded hearing the answer to his question, but had to know.
“No, Mr. they didn’t move, both of them died in the fire. What did you say your name was?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Joseph Stassi; and you’re?”
“Sam Hawkins, deputy sheriff for the county. Bought the place in February and just moved out here two weeks ago. Lived eight miles up the road toward town and jumped at the chance to get this place cheap.”
“Is there a chance I could hunt here next season?”
“No, It ain’t going to happen. I hunt and my sons and some of my friends will be coming out here too. Got a lot of cleaning up to do; you know, getting rid of all this trash left from the fire. My oldest boy has a dozer and a dump truck. He’s gonna haul the trash off when he gets time.”
“I understand.” Clay changed the subject, “When was the fire?”
“About ten months ago.”
“Got any idea what happened.”
“Don’t rightly know.”
“Did their dogs survive, and did somebody local take them in?”
“Never saw any dogs the night of the fire, and haven’t noticed any since then.”
Clay had been looking at the burned out ruins as he and Sam spoke. The log cabin had been completely consumed. A few of the log end pieces had fallen and rolled away from the fire, but the entire structure and everything in it had been totally destroyed; likewise with the garage. Looking closer Clay noticed the remains of the Jeep and the pickup truck were there along with a small motorcycle and the tractor Joe had used to mow the clearing. The training building though was a different matter. As would be expected, the metal building had survived the fire far better than the wood structures. The steel beams supporting the walls and roof were warped and twisted and the metal siding and roofing were gone for the most part. “Seems strange doesn’t it how a fire could start in one of the buildings and spread to the others without catching the woods on fire even in October? I’d think it would take some strong wind to spread the fire to the other buildings wouldn’t it?
“Yes, it does seem strange. The night of the fire some teenagers were messing around up on one of the Forest Service observation towers and spotted the fire and smoke. Went to the nearest house they could find and called it in at about two in the morning. I’m on the volunteer fire crew and got here first, since I lived just up the road. Then, as a deputy I was assigned to work communications with the Forest Service emergency crews. When the fires were about out I noticed three strangers roaming around. Don’t know where they came from, or how they learned about the fire. Tough looking guys they were; short hair, muscular, looked like military to me. Later when I got free I looked for them, but they was gone by then. At first light the next morning two suits showed up; both of them from Washington. Never could figure out how they heard about it and got here so fast, or why they were even interested.”
Upon hearing the last information Clay’s instincts told him to tread lightly from here on; but he had a dozen questions he had to have answers to. “Where do you think the fire started and what caused it?”
“Well, there’s another strange thing. Those guys from Washington issued a report instead of the state Fire Marshall. They said gas leaked in the cabin from the line to the kitchen stove and caused the fire to start there. Then they said wind carried embers and ignited both the garage and the metal building. But, like I said, I was the first one here. There weren’t no wind blowing; barely had any breeze at all, and when I pulled in, all three buildings were already burning. And they were burning from the inside out. They didn’t start at one end or on the roof like they would if embers had blown over there.”
Clay tried to act nonchalant when he asked, “Would you mind if I look around a bit?”
“Yeah, I sure would mind.” Sam replied as he pulled the pistol from his belt. “In fact the F.B.I. guy from Washington said somebody just might come nosing around and we was to hold Mr. somebody until he could get back here. Now Mr. Joseph Stassi, how about if you just march over to my sheriff’s car and we’ll put you in the back seat, after I cuff you.”
“Wait a minute; I was just curious about what happened to the nice couple who lived here. I didn’t even know their names.”
“I’m not so sure I believe you. You looked awful interested when I was talking about the fires. And why would you want to look at those burned out buildings if you aren’t involved in this someway? You’re going into town with me; you can try to convince the government fella about what you know or don’t know when he gets here. Now walk.”
Clay walked toward the car with Sam about three feet behind him. When he was near the car Sam said, “Stop right there and don’t pull any funny business. I will shoot you if I have to.” Sam moved around the car to the driver’s door, opened it and reached inside to retrieve a pair of handcuffs. Approaching Clay he said, “Turn around and put your arms behind you while I cuff you.”
Clay ignored the directions and kept pleading with Sam, saying he didn’t know anything. While Sam had been on the other side of the car he had positioned his right foot slightly forward in preparation of Sam’s return. When Sam got within three feet he again told Clay to turnaround, this time more forcefully. Clay looked past Sam’s shoulder, put a surprised expression on his face, and yelled, “Oh Shit,” while rolling forward on the ball of his right foot. Sam was caught off guard and hesitated just long enough for Clay to grab the gun in the deputy’s right hand and deflect it just before it went off with a deafening blast. The men wrestled each other for possession of the gun as Sam was shoved over against the car.
The old man was stronger than Clay would have given him credit for and fought back with a vitality belying his age and appearance. Using the car body for leverage Sam pushed back and Clay felt himself giving way. Then Clay lost his footing in th
e loose gravel and fell down and backward, still clinging to Sam’s gun hand and left shoulder. Sam landed on top of Clay and was cussing him while trying to regain control. Sam had some advantage by having landed on top, but Clay knew he had leverage from the solid ground while his opponent had to depend solely on weight and strength. Releasing his grip on Sam’s shoulder he moved his right hand to slash at the deputy’s eyes with his fingers then grabbed the man’s throat and squeezed hard. Sam was blinking rapidly while trying to focus and grabbed Clay’s hand, trying to break his grip, but in doing so lost any advantage of being on top. With all his strength Clay pushed his left arm up to maneuver the gun to the side of Sam’s head. Sam realized what was happening and had a fearful expression as Clay squeezed the deputy’s trigger finger. The discharge of the .45 cal. revolver inches from his own head was thunderous and the bullet’s impact caused Sam’s head to be thrown to his left before his body jumped and jerked as if high voltage had him in its grip. Finally the body relaxed and the mutilated head dropped onto Clay’s shoulder.
Clay quickly pushed the dead man away, rolled to the left and stood up shouting, “God damn it, damn it, damn it!!! Why in the hell didn’t you just leave me alone old man? I didn’t want to kill you!” It was apparent the man was dead because most of the left side of his head was gone. Clay leaned down, picked up the revolver and then ran to the trailer and entered to see if anyone else was inside the three small cluttered rooms. The rooms were empty and Clay went back outside and dragged the deputy’s body into the bedroom. In a mirror in the bathroom he learned he had blood on his right shoulder where Sam’s head had dropped and even more blood where it had splattered all the way down his right arm when the bullet exited. He had other clothes in the Jeep, so he removed the shirt and threw it in the bedroom on top of the deputy. Pulling a wallet from the man’s jeans pocket he removed one hundred and fifty four dollars. After locating and removing keys from Sam’s pants pocket he washed up in the bathroom.
Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy Page 28