Patrick felt two inches tall. He knew that he'd gone overboard. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked around the dinner table at his family and he said to all of them, "I'm so sorry to put you through this. Sean, I'm sorry for yelling at you. It isn't your fault. Dad's going through some rough things with his business."
Pat looked back down at the table, then back at Diane and said, "Please excuse me. I have to be alone for a while."
With that, Patrick left the kitchen and walked towards the front door. Diane asked him, "Where are you going?"
Patrick didn't answer and continued towards the door.
Diane persisted. "I said where are you going? You can't just leave us like this. We have to talk. I know you’re under some stress. But let's talk!"
Pat turned towards the door without a word, with only a blank stare on his face.
She was still angry and grabbed his arm to try to turn him around but it didn't work. He continued to make his way towards the front door. As he reached for the knob, Diane gripped his biceps with both hands as forcefully as she could, trying to get him to face her. In the kitchen, Sean and Anna were both starting to cry loudly, adding to Pat's anxiety. He stopped at the door with his hand on the knob and turned his head slightly to look at Diane's hands on his arm, then looked up to meet her eyes. The look in Pat's eyes was something that she'd never seen in her husband before. His eyes were not the cold, blue eyes that she knew. They stared through her like daggers. Her grip immediately loosened as she continued to study these angry, madly insane eyes. She suddenly had a chill and released his arm completely.
Pat opened the door, turned to his wife and said, "I won't be home tonight. I have to calm down a bit. I'm going to get a room. I promise that I'll be alone and it probably will be just for tonight. I should be home tomorrow. I love you and the kids but I need a short time alone to relax. Do you understand?"
All Diane could muster was a weak "No, I don’t understand. I don't know what’s going on here. I really don't know. I’ve never seen you like this. Are you going to be Okay?"
"Yeah, I'm . . . I will be fine."
The door closed and Pat drove straight to the vault.
As Pat lay in the vault thinking about the events of earlier that evening, he wondered if he would be all right. If he'd really wanted to relax, this was not the place to do it. It was a continuous reminder of what some supposed friends did to him and his family many years ago. He could feel the stomach acid churn and it continued to build his hatred of the perpetrators. It was slowly but surely driving him insane. So he thought. The longer he thought about Jamie, Donnie Lee, Bobby, Danny, Randy, and Bill, the more he was certain that the only key to his sanity was their demise. The plan was already in motion. It had to have closure.
Chapter 22
Detective Al Porecwzski had a bad feeling about the expanding case. Randy Farley’s murder was gathering some steam as more and more facts started to come into the station. The coroner’s report was due today. Forensics came up with some very peculiar facts. The Jack Daniels that was in Randy’s body didn’t make its way to his stomach. Most of it was in his lungs. It wasn’t mixed with any stomach contents. So he hadn’t suffocated on his own regurgitation. He did not die of alcohol poisoning. Rather, he’d drowned in Jack Daniels, plain and simple. One thing was apparent; he hadn’t done this to himself. The back of his throat was cut and bleeding most likely from the bottle being shoved forcibly down his throat. His teeth were chipped where the neck of the bottle hit them. The neck of the empty bottle had his blood all over it.
All in all, the facts were pointing to a very brutal murder. The only thing that they didn’t have yet was a suspect. Though many people didn’t like Randy Farley, not many people hated him either. This Sandy Allison just wanted a fun night out. How she ended up with this loser was a different story. It always seemed to be that the low life doggy guys were the ones who were the sweet talkers. But this sweet talker would soon be six feet under.
Now this new twist. Some nosey old broad from the complex had called the station with information on a rental car. No one else in the entire complex saw the car or heard anything unusual except her.
So Detective Porecwzski dialed the number for the rental car company to find out what he could. He had his scratch pad close at hand with the license number, make, and model of the car. He also read the rental car sticker as seen through Mrs. Berger’s binoculars. This should be pretty routine, Al thought to himself as he dialed the number. National had numerous rental car sites throughout the greater Orlando area. They were all linked by computer so someone in California could check on the status of a car in Kansas or anywhere else in the country for that matter.
“National Car Rental, Orlando International Airport Office. Steve Porter speaking. Can I interest you in a weekend special for $19.99?”
“Good morning Steve. This is Detective Porecwzski of the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. I need some information on a person who rented a car from your agency, possibly in the last few days. The car was spotted in the vicinity of a crime scene and it would be helpful if you could provide the name, address, and phone number of the person or persons who rented the car. We can and will get a warrant, if necessary, to obtain your records.”
The very direct tone of the detective made an impression on the young clerk. He was a bit intimidated by the more experienced man on the other end of the line. “Sir, I’d be glad to help you, but I think I’d better talk to my supervisor. Will you hold for a moment?”
“Sure, Son. No problem.”
While the standard audio of National Car Rental Service ads filled the receiver, Detective Porecwzski thought about the odd circumstances of this crime. Why would a murderer use whiskey to basically drown his victim? He was already drunk as a skunk from the eye witness reports. Sandy Allison swore that he was nearly passed out when she ran out of the apartment. The first officers to respond noticed the red marks on his wrists where he’d been tied up while he was being assaulted. With him being that drunk it wasn’t really necessary to be that strong of an individual to do that poor bastard in. Where had she said they were? The Rock Alliance. New heavy metal rock joint. Said that she’d seen him there several nights in a row. He’d told her that he was some hot-shot salesman from Jacksonville. What a loser. She’d figured that he was lying, but she just wanted to have a fun night out until he’d started to get pushy. He turned out to be another creep. Now he was a dead creep.
“Detective, this is Nick Brody, Shift Manager. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Nick, like I was telling Steve, your clerk, I’m with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department and one of your agency’s vehicles was seen at an apartment complex where a murder was committed. We just wanted to get an ID on the renter.”
“Do you have any information which would verify that the car was one of ours, detective?”
“We have an eye witness that saw the National Car Rental bumper sticker on the bumper and also recorded the license plate number. It’s Florida, number OC-45392, a white Dodge Acclaim with black wall tires and a dark interior. It was located in Pine Hills at The Silver Star Road Apartments between 11:00PM and 1:00 AM on Friday night and Saturday morning.” Detective Porecwzski could hear the computer keyboard keys clicking over the receiver as the shift supervisor punched in the information.
“Here it is.” Bingo! “The car was rented to a Mr. James Carlson, 23234 West Palmetto Boulevard, right here in Orlando. He used a credit card, Visa, number 4879-734-345-912, expiration date, November 2001. He carried State Farm Insurance and . . .”
“That’s all I’ll need for now, Mr. Brody. I don’t mean to cut you off but we’re in a hurry to catch up to this guy. Thanks again.” The receiver went to the cradle before Mr. Brody could get in another word. Detective Porecwzski sat and thought for a moment. That was much too easy. Something just doesn’t add up here. This guy is leaving a trail. Well maybe he just isn’t a real bright guy. But could he be leaving us this t
rail on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t expect to be seen at the complex. After all Mrs. Berger was the only eye witness. What a way to kill someone; drowning in whiskey. Almost like one of those country and western songs, drowning my sorrows in my whiskey bottle. But this murder had a rock and roll connection. The Rock Alliance. Something’s familiar about that place. Recent history . . . think man! He turned to his partner and said, “Rich, get your stuff. We’ve got a house call to make.”
* * *
Ginny was lying on the beach in the hot Florida sun with her bikini straps undone and at her side. Coated in lotion with a protection factor of 15, her skin glistened as it soaked up the rays. She wanted to look her absolute best when she saw Brian at the Rock tomorrow night. He was coming back from a gig at a bar in Gainesville. The place was supposed to be a combination hall and bar, the largest of its type in Florida. The Rock Hall of Flame is where thousands of students from the University of Florida go to unwind after long hours of intense study. Instead of unwinding most of the time they wind up getting plastered far beyond their capability to handle it. Brian Purcer and the Hot Licks was the hottest new band in the south and the crowds were supposed to overwhelm the place. Ginny warned Brian to stay away from the local female students saying “they’re nothing but sluts and real trouble for you, Mr. Purcer.” At first Brian had a confused look on his face. He didn't quite understand where Ginny was going with her comments. Then a look of complete understanding came on his face. He was in love with Ginny and he could see that Ginny was falling for him. He had no idea just how in love Ginny was.
She was now 100% certified in love with an up-and-coming rock star. She also knew that he was in love with her. They’d only known each other for a short time, but they seemed to be right for each other. He would be back tomorrow after a stop in Dunnellon. He wanted to visit an old friend of his, one he hadn’t seen in some seven years. The guy was in the Navy for six years, which for some reason, absolutely amazed Brian. Ginny didn’t know what was so amazing about being in the Navy, but what the heck. He would be home soon enough.
* * *
The knock at the front door startled Diane McKinney. She hadn’t heard from Patrick for a day and a half and was worried sick about him. She didn’t know whether he was sick, hurt, or worse. She didn’t want to call the police because Patrick had said he’d be okay. Thoughts of something bad happening to her husband haunted her nights. These last two nights reminded her of the long periods of time that Patrick was away while on patrol. The days were not as bad because she kept busy with housework and errands. She didn’t have a clue as to who might be here at this hour of the morning, but a chill went down her spine when she thought, Could it be the police? Is Patrick hurt? When she looked through the peep hole, the distorted sight of the long haired man on the other side of the door made her a little more nervous, and a bit frightened. What would this guy be looking for? Well, best to use caution. She left the security chain in place and opened the door only enough for the sound of her voice to travel through.
“Can I help you?” Her sheepish voice showed little confidence in any ability to defend herself from a would-be assailant. As soon as she heard her own words come out, she knew it.
“Yes. Is this the home of Patrick McKinney, ex-navy nuclear power guru?
“Yes it is. And you are . . . ?”
“I’m Brian Purcer. Pat and I were buddies a few years back. He wrote to me and said to drop by some time. I was on my way back to Orlando from Gainesville and I thought I’d take him up on the invite. Is he home?”
“I’m sorry, but Pat isn’t home right now. What did you say your name was again?” Diane was still talking through the slightly cracked open door.
“Brian. Brian Purcer. You must be Diane. Pat told me about you, Sean and Anna in a letter he’d sent to me some weeks ago. I was really surprised to see that he’d moved back to central Florida. I was really surprised about a lot of things, like you for instance. I didn’t think Pat would ever get married, much less have kids.” Brian’s smooth manner was causing Diane to relax a bit. He continued. “I’ll tell you what; tell Pat that I was by, sorry I missed him and all. Let me give you my phone number and he can call me when he gets home. Or better yet, I’ll stay in town for the afternoon and I’ll call back later.
“I’m not sure when he’ll be back. He really didn’t say what time or what day he’d be home. Why don’t you leave your number and I’ll tell him to give you a call. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that you took the time to come by.”
Brian could hear the pain in Diane’s tiny voice. He wasn’t sure how to read what he was hearing but there was a certain amount of loneliness behind the words. Had Pat been hurt? Was there something wrong in their marriage? He wanted to ask but he’d just met this woman. All he knew was that she was married to a friend that he hadn’t seen in years. He felt for this woman even though he knew nothing about her except what Pat had written in his letter. She is the most kind and compassionate woman that I’ve ever met. Considering what I’ve done in my lifetime, I know that there must be a very forgiving God, for he has blessed me beyond my dreams. He decided to ask the question. Patrick was a friend after all and time was not an issue. Pat and he were best friends at one time. He felt as if it was his duty to help if he could. Brian took one long, deep breath. “Diane, I know we’ve just met, and I can’t even see you, but you seem a bit unnerved. Is everything okay? I mean is Pat alright?”
The question totally disarmed her. It was as genuine as gold, she could tell. She closed the door, removed the security chain, and invited Brian Purcer, a total stranger, into the house to talk.
Over the next two hours, Diane McKinney learned more about her husband than she’d learned in the past seven years of their marriage. The story, as told by Brian Purcer, provided the answers to many of Diane’s previously unanswered questions. The many sleepless nights, and the latest episode of him leaving without a trace and providing no means to locate or contact him. Diane was more worried now than she was before, though she didn’t know why.
“Did Pat ever sell the nursery and grove?” Brian asked.
“Pardon me?”
“You know, the nursery. He grew foliage plants. And the grove. Heck, I don’t know what all kinds of fruit the grove had.”
“What nursery? What Grove? I never heard anything about a nursery or a grove. What kind of grove? You mean he owned, or still owns a nursery and a grove? Where?” Diane’s questions were not mock surprise. She had absolutely no idea that Pat had all of these things, and may still have them. That wasn’t all. Brian Purcer, a man who had supposedly been his best friend for years, had just appeared and filled her in on facts that Pat should have told her. Pat had never mentioned his name before. The more that she sat and thought about the man she’d married, the more she realized that she really knew very little about him. The years that they’d been married were nearly flawless. Only since he was discharged from the Navy and started his business was there any marital discord. Diane had attributed all of that to the stress of starting a business from scratch. The side of her husband which was now revealed to her gave her cause for more concern. Worst of all, Diane could imagine her husband doing everything that Brian had said that he had actually done. Except that she’d just met him, she had no reason to doubt Brian’s word. And if they were true, then who was the man she’d married? What happened to the money from these businesses? Was Brian Purcer typical of all of his past friends?
Pat hadn’t told her much about his past. He’d always say in a joking manner that it “wasn’t anything exciting” or “there’s nothing to tell”. And “you really don’t want to know. I work for the CIA. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” He’d commented one time that he “was a very dangerous man,” then laughed as if he’d told a joke. She was certain that he was kidding. The longer Brian talked, the more she realized that he was very serious. He was hiding his past or at the very least keeping a good part of it secret. She needed to talk to h
er husband now more than ever. These things had to be brought out into the open between them.
“You had no idea? How could you not know? I mean, he loved the grove. And he never talked about any of his old friends?”
“No.” She shook her head slightly back and forth. Her eyes were starting to moisten. The tears were on the verge of flowing freely.
“Well Pat always was a bit secretive when he wanted to be. But the grove? He had to have said something.” Brian felt as if he’d known Diane for years. She was easy to talk to even now as the stress of the situation was eating at her very soul. But he was now sure that he had erred in telling this woman so much about her husband that she obviously didn’t know. There was no taking the words back and he felt very uncomfortable. Why had Pat left so much of his life unknown to this woman? This was his wife for Christ’s sake! He could tell by talking to her that she would never betray him. He was everything to her, and she to him, so why all of the blank pages? Just then, an eerie thought crossed his mind; the incident at the bar with Danny Vallero, followed by his murder - no his assassination. Pat had threatened revenge on Danny and others. No. It can’t be. Pat’s too smart for that. He has a wife and family now. He has a great future with a new business and though Diane apparently doesn’t know it, a small fortune. He left out that part of his revelation of Pat McKinney. He wouldn’t risk all of this on scum like Danny Vallero, would he, Brian thought to himself?
Diane was reading his face. “What is it, Brian? Is something wrong? Has Pat done something wrong?”
“No. It’s nothing. I mean yes. Something is wrong. My best friend in the world screwed up. He’s kept a beautiful, caring person, who loves him, in the dark about some important things. Look, I know you’re worried about Pat, but from what I remember, he can handle himself. I’ve never seen him get into a situation that he couldn’t figure a way out of. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. Try not to worry. Okay?” Brian got up and started towards the door. “I’ve really enjoyed meeting you and talking with you. I hope I didn’t worry you or confuse you more.”
A Lifetime of Vengeance Page 15