A Lifetime of Vengeance

by Pete PJ Grondin

  The closet had two louvered bi-fold doors. He opened the door on the left, stepped into the closet, and closed the doors. Through the louvers, he had a decent view of the bed and a good part of the room. He thought about relaxing. Based on his surveillance of Randy’s standard routine, he had 45 minutes to an hour and a half before Randy would be home. He put the bottles of Jack Daniels on the floor next to him and closed his eyes to think about his next moves.

  He began to think about why he was here in the first place. This guy and his buddy were killers. That wasn't the worst thing they did to her. They raped her and tortured her. Then his accomplices robbed the house. He remembered hearing that they’d made a home video of the incident up to the point where the cameraman couldn’t take it anymore. According to news accounts of the incident, Randy's friend, Jamie Watkins, was taunting the brothers, letting them know in no uncertain terms that he was the one who was in charge of the heist. His three accomplices, Donnie Lee Lester, Bobby Acquino, and Randy Farley were just along for the money, laughing at Jamie's taunts. Donnie Lee and Bobby were friends of the family. Jamie was the one who'd actually done the killing. He'd looked right into the camera and said to the other three in his annoying, sarcastic, Texas accent, "Don't worry boys, them McKinney boys don’t have the balls to come after us. And even if they do, we'll kill 'em." Those spineless pussies. They probably wear silky panties.”

  His mind came back to Randy's apartment. Randy had screwed with the McKinney family for the last time. His part in the rape and murder earned him the death sentence. No court or jury would have to worry about this one.

  The sound of footsteps coming up the apartment steps caused him to frown; the sound of keys in the apartment door. If it was Randy, he was having trouble getting the key in the lock. Then he heard something that made him shiver. A female voice said, "What's the matter, Randy? Can't you get it in the hole?" She giggled. The woman with Randy was apparently drunk, and if Randy was having trouble getting into his own apartment, he was probably drunk, too. After a moment, the door was unlocked. Randy and his date almost fell into the apartment. They both giggled at this. They were both very drunk. The door was closed and the security chain was put in place.

  In the closet, Radar’s mind raced. Keep calm. Think. This is not according to plan. Just sit tight and don't move. This will work out. Patience. His breathing was controlled and even. He listened for Randy and his date as they moved around the apartment. As drunk as they appeared to be, he figured that they would be passed out within the hour. That was good. Hopefully his estimate would be accurate.

  Randy was really putting the moves on his date fast. He tried to get her to lie on the couch but she wanted to get a drink first. Randy grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to the master bedroom and asked her to sit on the end of his bed. When she said she really wanted a drink, Randy got a bit more forceful with her. He lightly pushed her on the shoulders. She fell backwards onto the bed and Randy crawled on top of her. She started to protest, but he covered her mouth with his hand. Even as drunk as she was, she feared that she was about to be forcefully raped and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Randy spoke to her and said in a calm voice, "Mandy, I love you. Don't resist me. I'll take my hand away if you promise to be good." Randy slowly took his hand away.

  "It's okay, Randy. I'll be good to you. But my name is Sandy." This seemed to irritate the drunken Randy. Still sitting on top of her, he ripped her blouse open exposing her silky Victoria’s Secret bra. Then he broke the front clip of her bra. Her breasts were now exposed. He remained sitting on top of her. He grabbed her by one wrist with his left hand and covered her mouth again with his right.

  Watching from the closet Radar was getting angry at the way Randy was pushing this girl around. He imagined that this is the way he'd forced himself on other women. It was all he could do to keep from breaking out of the closet door and finishing Randy right in front of this girl. How would he explain it to her? Would she keep quiet about the incident? Could he trust her? Maybe this is what she wanted and she and Randy were just playing a sex game. Be cool he told himself.

  He didn't have to wait long. Sandy took her fist and gave Randy a right cross to the jaw. It wasn’t a direct hit but it knocked him off her and he fell to the floor beside the bed. She jumped up and kicked him in the jaw then ran into the living room. It happened so fast that the startled, drunk Randy was stunned. The door to the apartment opened and closed almost before Randy could get to his feet. He stumbled towards the living room shouting, "Mandy, wait, I'm sorry. Mandy, give me another chance. I love you." But Sandy was already gone. Radar took a long, deep breath and thought to himself, Thank you, Randy, for being such a smoothy with women. This makes things much easier.

  Randy stumbled back to his room and fell back onto his bed face up. Within ten minutes he was snoring loudly. Radar waited an additional ten minutes to make sure that Randy was in a deep sleep. For those entire twenty minutes, Randy didn't change positions. It was safe for Radar to get to work.

  He picked up the bag of booze, grabbed a handful of Randy's cheap ties and made his way out of the closet. He threw the ties and booze on the bed and left the room to make sure that the front door was locked. When he returned to the bedroom, he went right to work.

  Randy couldn't have been more cooperative. He was still snoring with his arms above his head, crossed at the wrists. His snoring was very loud and his breath reeked of alcohol. One of the ties was slipped slowly around his wrists, leaving the slip knot loose. The other end of the tie was secured to the headboard. He then moved to Randy's feet where he fitted his ankles with one tie each. He then tied his ankle ties to the bed. He was prepared to stuff another tie in his mouth if necessary, but Randy remained sound asleep. Almost ready. He opened both bottles of Jack Daniels and set them on the night stand. Then he pulled the slip knots tight around Randy's wrists and ankles. Randy finally stirred. His eyes opened as Radar sat on his chest. Randy started to say "what the f..." As he opened his mouth, the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels slipped in. Radar put his knees on either side of Randy's head to keep it as still as possible. The Jack Daniels started to empty into Randy's mouth. He struggled as his body tried to eject the bottle. Radar was gritting his teeth as he maintained pressure on the bottom of the bottle. As Randy's lungs struggled to get air, the contents of the bottle surged into his stomach and lungs, bubbling like a water cooler.

  "Do you remember Julie McKinney, Randy," he asked through gritted teeth? "You remember, don't you? You helped kill her, and now it’s payback time. I’m your judge, jury, and executioner. Don't worry, it'll be over soon. You won't have to stand trial for those nasty drug charges. You won't have to feel guilty anymore. You can join Danny Vallero in hell."

  Randy's eyes grew wider. Randy’s stomach heaved as his body rejected the alcohol intrusion and his body continued to convulse. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything. Finally, his body relaxed and the contents of the bottle flowed out of the sides of his mouth. Randy's eyes remained wide open, stricken with fear even in death. Radar checked his jugular vein . . . no pulse. He checked for breathing . . . none. He waited another ten minutes to be sure. There was no movement from the body of Randy Farley. He was now with Danny Vallero.

  He untied Randy's hands and feet. He left the other bottle on the night stand and went to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. He smoothed his hair, straightened his clothes, and put the surgical gloves in his pocket. He took one last look at Randy Farley and left the apartment. He got into his car and headed for the Orange County Convention Center. There was a reception that he needed to attend. Even if he smelled like Jack Daniels, that was no problem. Everyone there would smell like some kind of alcohol. Besides, he was already checked into the seminar and he’d signed the attendance sheet. He’d been there all night. It was a great presentation on using computers to improve records handling for large corporations, like nuclear power plants or gun manufacturers.

 
Chapter 20

  "Good morning, Baby. How'd you sleep without me?" Pat’s voice was a welcome sound early in the morning.

  "Not bad. I missed you though." Diane yawned into the receiver as she looked at the clock; 6:30 AM. She had to get up in fifteen minutes and get ready for another busy day. "How was your trip?"

  "Okay. It’s been pretty boring without you. You're going to have to come with me on one of these boondoggles. It would be fun. You could shop at one of the malls while I'm at these seminars. Then we could go to some tourist traps . . ."

  "And just what do we do with your lovely children?"

  "We could ship them to their grandparents. Mom and Dad would love to see them. So would your parents. Or we could bring them along."

  "No way, Dear. I can suffer through parenthood right here without having us go broke. When does your seminar start?"

  "We have to be in the conference room by 8:30. Registration starts at 8:00. Three hours of listening to boring facts about Nuclear Regulatory Commission regulations, a long lunch, three more hours about more boring regulations. It's really not much fun. I do get to meet all kinds of interesting women, though." Patrick loved to tease his wife. And she took it well.

  "Bring them home with you. I'll introduce them to my new boyfriend. He's cute, and he's got a great body."

  "I guess I'll just have to come home and kick his hillbilly ass. Or I could just show you who's the better lover.” Pat paused to see if Diane would react. When she didn’t he continued. “How are the kids doing?"

  "Well right now they're still asleep. Sean should be waking up any second now. Will you be coming straight home after the seminar?"

  "I should be. I may have to talk to some prospective new clients but that is usually just an excuse to have a few drinks. I'm sure I won’t be sticking around here for long. Honey, do you ever think that I went into the wrong profession? I mean, are you happy with me traveling and all? Am I screwing up by not being around the kids more?"

  Diane thought for a few moments before answering. She’d recently been thinking about how much time Pat had been spending away from home. It wasn't like being on a submarine where he would leave and be gone for eighty to ninety days at a time, but it was becoming a regular thing. Diane had been feeling the additional strain because of the way the children were behaving. Sean was asking why Daddy had to be gone so much. He even asked if Dad was going back to the submarine. That question hit Diane a little hard. She had laughed at first, but when she thought a little longer about it, Sean's question really touch a nerve. If Sean was noticing his father's absence, surely their daughter was, too. She was feeling a bit lonely herself, lately, but being a Navy submariner's wife gave her some pretty tough skin.

  "Listen, Mister, you don't have time to worry about this kind of stuff. You've got a business to get going. After you hit the big time and hire some flunkies to run the business, then you can hang out around the house. Hey, if you're still worried about it when you get home, we'll talk about it then. Right now, you've got important information to absorb. Now get going!"

  The mock order surprised Pat a little. He answered with just as much sarcasm, "Yes Sir . . . I mean Ma’am." Then in a more serious tone he said, "I'll see you tonight, Baby. Let's go out to eat tonight, someplace nice. Can we get a sitter?"

  "We'll see. Just get home safely. I love you."

  "I love you, too. See you tonight."

  The click on the other end of the receiver put a lump in Patrick's throat. He loved this woman so much. He couldn't stand the thought of hurting her. He knew that if he continued with the plan, the possibility of being caught would become greater and greater. Hurting Diane, the most wonderful woman he'd ever met, would only be the beginning of his troubles, but to him it would be the most painful thing of all of the consequences he would ever have to face. The tension level was rising and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. The plan was in motion. The best thing he could do now was complete it and make sure that he didn't get caught. He also had to hope that he could live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He put the receiver down and rubbed his shoulders. They were tight, and there was tightness in his chest. He'd felt this tightness before, but it was becoming more noticeable with each passing day. I should get a physical. This tension is killing me. Patrick got up, straightened his tie, and headed down to the restaurant for breakfast. Breakfast and a good cup of coffee was what he needed. That's the ticket. I'll relax, read the paper, and think of pleasant things.

  As Patrick sat waiting on his breakfast, his mind wandered. He vividly saw Danny Vallero’s head explode onto the wall in his living room. He smiled to himself and visibly lurched, as the scene made his stomach turn. He was startled when the waitress brought his order to the table.

  "Are you all right sir," she asked with genuine concern?

  "Yes, I'm fine." he replied. "I was just thinking of my wife and how much I miss her. Why, was it that obvious?"

  The young girl thought for a moment, puzzled. If he was thinking about his wife with that expression on his face, she was afraid for her. His look was rather sinister. Whatever he was thinking, it wasn't about blissful sex. She read an expression of him inflicting pain . . . and pleasure. "No sir. I thought you might have been choking or spilled your coffee or something." It was the best lie she could come up with off the top of her head.

  "Thanks for asking," he looked at her name tag, "Judy."

  Judy forced a smile and left. Patrick began to wonder about his ability to conceal the events that had already passed and, knowing that the plan was not complete, wondered if he could stop his conscience from torturing him. Then he wondered how his brother Joe was coping with this? It all seemed so easy when it was just words. They were justified in their actions weren't they? They'd been betrayed by their closest friends and that was all the justification that they needed. Or was it? Could they stand the feelings of guilt for an eternity? Again, Patrick visibly shivered, shook his head to clear the thoughts away, and began to eat his eggs and sausage. He looked at the paper and almost choked. "DRUG MURDER" headlines hit him in the face. He took a deep breath and read on. It was a story about crack dealers in the central city. Seven separate murders had been committed over the last three days involving gangs and their turf war. Patrick took another deep breath and finished his breakfast. He needed to calm down. Just relax. Everything's going to be fine. He wasn't doing a very good job at reassuring himself that all was going well. Relaxation was not one of those things that he took for granted these days. Tension, on the other hand, was something he could count on each and every day.

  * * *

  Steve Sortini didn't sleep a wink last night . . . or more accurately, this morning. He was down at the sheriff's department trying to explain why he broke into the apartment of a man he'd never met . . . a man who was now dead. Steve had given his statement six times to about eight different officers and his story was the same each time. For some reason, they didn't seem convinced. He cursed himself for letting Sandy talk him into beating up some guy he didn't even know. This was all Sandy's fault. She shouldn't have let this drunken asshole take her home. Hell, she even drove her car to his apartment. This guy was so screwed up he didn't even have a car. How could she get suckered by a bum like that? He swore that he'd get even with her when this was all cleared up.

  He'd explained to the deputy sheriff that he had gone to the apartment to beat up this guy because he had tried to rape a friend of his, but he didn't have a chance. The guy was already dead when he arrived. Hell, why would he have called the cops if he had really killed the guy? "I'm not a rocket scientist, but I'm no idiot either," he'd told them. The questions had gone on for several hours. When they finally finished questioning Steve, it was 6:12 AM. He would remember that for a long time. The numbers on the large digital clock in the hall outside the interrogation room were so bright that they hurt his eyes when he looked at them. He was tired and hungry. As he turned towards the door that led to the lobby, he saw Sa
ndy coming out of one of the other interrogation rooms. He was angered and started to say something to her but he could see the fear in her eyes. He stopped, but the deputy behind him said to keep moving. Steve asked the deputy if he could talk to her for a moment, but he replied that it would have to be a little later and that she would be done in a few more minutes.

  "Is she being charged with anything?" Steve's question displayed genuine concern.

  The deputy replied that, no, she wasn't but they wanted to ask her a few more questions. After all, this guy was murdered, and she was the last one to see him alive. That is, the last one besides whoever did the killing.

  "How do you know he was killed? Maybe he just drank himself to death. You know, alcohol poisoning."

  "Save your breath, Steve. I can't discuss details with you. But I can tell you he was murdered. You can take that to the bank."

  Steve took a deep breath. He sat in the lobby of the Orange County Sheriff's Department and waited for Sandy to finish her statement. About a half hour passed when the door to the interrogation rooms opened. Sandy came out followed by a female deputy. She told Sandy that she was free to go. Sandy turned and saw Steve and stopped cold in her tracks. Tears streamed down her face and still standing there in fear, she started babbling, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to get you involved in this. I didn't know."

  Steve walked towards her, trying to calm her down. "It's okay. It's not your fault. How could you know that this guy was going to get himself killed?" He went over to her and put his arms around her in a loving way. He would have beaten Randy nearly to death if he'd had the chance. This kind of job was not foreign to Steve Sortini. He worked as a bouncer for many different bars since getting out of high school eight years earlier. He liked the work. Head knocking was fun and he was good at it. At 6'4", 250 pounds and all muscle, it didn't come too hard to him. He liked being around the ladies, too. Because of his good looks and size, they were attracted to him. He usually had his choice of women throughout the year. He rarely had a drought of sex. He thought that beating Randy’s brains in for Sandy would net him a few good nights of sexual favors. Sandy was very attractive with a great body. As he held her close now, though, he wasn't thinking about sex, he was thinking about what had happened to that poor bastard . . . What was his name? Randy. Randy Farley. That schmuck! He sure screwed my night up.