A Lifetime of Vengeance

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A Lifetime of Vengeance Page 16

by Pete PJ Grondin


  “No. On the contrary, you’ve helped me understand my husband more now than ever. I know he’ll be home soon. You’re right, you know. He is sharp. That’s why I married him.”

  “I can see why he married you. You’re very special. When he gets back, tell him to call and we’ll get together for dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you, Diane. Pat is a very lucky man. I’m sure that he realizes that.”

  “Thank you, Brain. It was nice to meet you, too. And when Pat gets back . . . ,“ her eyes started to well up again, “ . . .make sure you come visit. Good luck with your music career. It sounds . . . exciting,” she managed to choke out as she dabbed her eyes.

  “Well, thanks again,” Brian said as he made his way to the door. He hated to leave this woman in such a sad state, but he had other things to do himself.

  He closed the door to his mini-van and headed out towards Orlando. Immediately his mind went back to the Vallero murder. It couldn’t have been. No way! But the doubts continued to linger. Brian had an idea about where he might find one Patrick McKinney and his mind plotted a course on the Florida back roads to Kelly Park Drive in rural Apopka, Florida.

  Chapter 23

  West Palmetto Boulevard was in a neighborhood with homes that were in the $175,000 to $245,000 price range, by Detective Al Porecwzski’s estimate. They were a nice mix of styles, none repeating each other. It was refreshing to drive through a nicely kept neighborhood for a change. The pleasant drive would soon give way to the unpleasant task of possibly arresting a man for murder, or at the very least, taking him in for questioning. There was some element of danger in this little excursion. They were, after all, questioning a potential murderer.

  Detective Porecwzski pulled into the driveway of 23234 West Palmetto Boulevard and turned off the engine. It was a two story Spanish style home with the classic orange tile roof. White stucco covered the walls of the home’s exterior. As with all of the homes in the neighborhood, the yard’s landscaping was exceptional. They took a moment to verify the address and looked for movement in the windows. They were in an unmarked car so they would not attract undo attention. But the moveable searchlight mounted on the side of the dark blue Chevrolet Caprice Classic was a dead giveaway. Al and Rich approached the house, rang the doorbell, and waited. They held their hands close to their holstered guns, continually scanning the surrounding area for anything suspicious. They could hear steady steps approach the door from the inside. The door opened and an attractive, slender woman with light auburn hair, in her mid-to-late forties stood in the doorway. “Yes, can I help you?”

  Both men instinctively moved their hands away from their guns and relaxed a bit. Al spoke for the duo. “Yes ma’am. I’m Detective Al Porecwzski and this is my partner Richard James. We’re looking for Mr. James Carlson. It seems that he rented a car . . .” The detective stopped in mid-sentence. He noticed the horrified look on the woman’s face, her hand coming up to cover her open mouth. As her breath became shorter, it appeared to the two men that this woman was about to pass out. Al reached for her to attempt to support her. She shook loose of his grasp and regained her balance, placing her other hand against the door jamb.

  A voice from inside the house called out, “Honey, who’s at the door?” She still had not moved her hands and appeared to be stunned by the question, though neither man could possibly know why. The man inside came to the woman’s side. “Honey . . . Honey, what is it?”

  She took a long, deep breath before she spoke. Through a choked-up throat she said, “Sweetheart, these men are looking for Jimmy.”

  The twisted, pained expression which appeared on the man’s face was quickly mixed with anger. “Is this some kind of joke? Who are you? Why are you doing this to us?”

  “As I told your . . . wife, I assume, I’m Detective Al Porecwzski . . .”

  “I don’t give a damn who you are! If you want to see our son, you’re about nine years too late. He was murdered in 1989. Why . . . How . . . What the hell is this all about? Why are you bothering us?”

  “Maybe if we could come inside we can tell you what this is about. I really don’t mean to impose. We truly are sorry for your loss but we need to verify some things. I promise it won’t take but a moment.” Al paused then continued as he watched the expression on the man’s face. “We’ll only take as much time as we need. We won’t intrude further.”

  “Honey, is it okay?”

  Mrs. Carlson nodded. The tears were very evident on her cheeks now. This inquiry had opened up some deep wounds and there was no way of knowing it beforehand.

  * * *

  It was a stroke of luck that the tenants of the brothers’ house in front of the vault on Kelley Park Drive decided to move out just before Pat was discharged from the Navy. This way, Pat had a place of refuge to try to clear his head and work out the minor quirks of the plan. There was definitely solitude from the rigors of life on a submarine. No exams, no Naval Reactors Inspectors looking over your shoulder, no wife, no kids . . . no love or caring, no home cooked meals, no one to rub my back or give good advice when needed. Boy do I need some now! This was not an ideal place to be, particularly when you wanted to clear your head of troubles. After all, this is where all the troubles began. The ghost of Julie McKinney haunted the vault. Now the ghost of Danny Vallero was here, too. He was in a different section of the vault. Julie smiled down at Patrick saying thank you for helping free me. Danny was crying, begging forgiveness. None would be granted from Patrick. He only promised the ghost of Danny that he would be joined soon by at least four others; more if anyone tried to get in his way. His family would get revenge. Payment would be painful to those who’d betrayed them. He and Joe would see to it.

  The monitors picked up an approaching vehicle. This was not a welcome sight to Pat. No one was supposed to know where he was, not even Joe. Maybe it was just some teenagers looking for a place to make out. Pat watched the car as it made its way between the orange trees towards the vault. It was a mini-van. That probably meant that it wouldn’t be teenagers unless they were in their parents mini-van. He sat in silence as it made a slow approach through the trees. It was coming directly at the vault where Pat’s car was parked. The van stopped right behind Pat’s car, blocking any route that might be accessible as a means of escape. Pat was basically trapped in the grove. If he had to get out for some reason, on foot was the only way.

  Pat used the controls to zoom in on the driver’s side door of the van as it cracked open slightly. There was only one person in the van, Pat could tell. The shape of a man with long hair exited. It couldn’t be! Brian Purcer! What the hell? How did he find me? Pat went to the door of the vault, unlocked it and yelled, “Brian! What in God’s name are you doing here? How’d you know I was here? How’ve you been?” Pat’s smile was bright and glowing for the first time in days. He took a few steps up the incline from the door of the vault to greet his old best friend. A friend whom he hadn’t seen in over six years found him in a place where no one was supposed to be able to find him.

  “Pat, what in the hell are you doing here? Are you nuts, man? This place is haunted. There is nothing here for you.” Brian looked around at the grove then back at the vault. “I thought that you’d sold the place.” He waved his hands around at their surroundings. Why didn’t you sell it? It’s gotta be eating you up to be here.”

  “What, no Hey Pat, how are you?” Pat’s smile faded, seeing the look on Brian’s face. Brian had the look of an angry father about to dispense punishment to a son who’d strayed to the wrong side of the line. The two stared at each other for what seemed like ten minutes. Friends who hadn’t seen each other in over six years were thrown together in circumstances that neither fully understood. How could they carry on their friendship as if nothing had changed? Brian had just spilled his guts to the wife of this man, revealing things that Patrick had never told her. He also had a strong suspicion that Patrick may have been involved in the murder of Danny Vallero. After all, he had sworn that he would kill Dann
y and others before disappearing to the U.S. Navy. Could anyone hold their rage this long and unleash it on people who’d never suspect that their actions, committed almost seven years before, would bring about their death? Now how could Brian hold a normal conversation with his friend? Or exactly who was this man now? The Pat McKinney that he’d known could never have committed murder. Had he changed so drastically? Maybe the rape and murder of his sister-in-law had driven him to this. Could he blame Pat? How would he feel if it had been his brother’s wife? There were too many questions racing through his mind to simply say ‘Hi, Pat. How’s it going?’

  Pat’s mind raced as well. How did Brian know where he was? As he stared back at his friend, he had to figure out the purpose of this unexpected visit. Brian’s presence was not unwelcomed. The timing could have been better. Or could it? Pat needed someone to talk to, that was a given. But there was a lot of time and distance between these friends. Could they just pick up where they left off and have it be like old times. Pat doubted it, but he needed to talk. This thing was eating him up. Brian was right, the ghosts in the vault were there and they wouldn’t let him rest. Maybe that’s why he came here, to get the hate built up to a point of no return. That way he could finish the plan, driven by the ghosts of his sister-in-law and the ghosts of his enemies. They would drive him to finish the task at hand.

  Brian broke the silence as he swatted a mosquito away from his ear. “I met Diane today.”

  Pat’s expression changed from suspicion to confusion. “You mean Diane, my wife?”

  “Yeah, you big dope. Diane, your wife, the woman who idolizes you.”

  “Where did you meet her? How did you know it was her?”

  “You really have turned completely stupid over the years. You sent me an invitation to your house to meet your wife and kids. I took you up on it. Didn’t think that I would, did you?”

  “No, not really. How’d a rising rock star like you have time to visit a washed up, junk-head like myself? From what I hear, you don’t have much time to spend fooling around anymore. You’ve got albums to cut, concerts to perform, and money to make. You’re on your way to the top.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s all it takes. Somebody hints that you might sign a contract and you’re a multi-millionaire. You should try it. See my rock star type vehicle?” Brian pointed over his shoulder. “It’s a six year old mini-van. But I’m so rich now, I think I’ll get rid of it and get a five year old mini-van.” They both smiled for the first time in their brief encounter. They both swung their arms at mosquitoes buzzing in their ears. “Are we just gonna stand out here in the Florida heat and let the mosquitoes carry us away, or are we gonna go inside Houston Control, here?”

  “Sure, come on in. I sure need the company.”

  The two men moved inside. Just as Brian had said, the mosquitoes were getting mean, swarming around the men’s heads with bothersome buzzing as they flapped their wings in Brian and Patrick’s ears.

  “So how’s Diane? I scored pretty well there, didn’t I?”

  “Except for the fact that she’s married to an unappreciative, jerk-asshole, she’s holding up okay. She misses that jerk pretty badly. She’s worried about you, Pat. I don’t think I helped your case any, either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s just say that I assumed that she knew a lot more than she did.” Brian let a long stare go on without any further comment.

  Pat broke the silence this time. “Brian, what did you tell her?”

  “Only that you owned a nursery and an orange grove. Wait, I just said grove. I don’t think I told her what kind of grove. Man, why didn’t you tell her about this stuff? You can’t keep this kind of shit secret forever! Women pick up on this shit and use it against you for the rest of your life.”

  “Wait a minute. What do you know about women? Last I heard you were still celibate.”

  “Well, mister smart ass, I have a very rock-solid steady. You’re gonna meet her very soon, if I can drag you out of this fortress.” Brian’s face turned serious again. “You have to go home, Pat. Diane is going crazy without you. Besides, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. You can’t keep secrets from your wife.”

  “From the sound of it, I don’t have any more secrets. Before we leave this vault, you’re going to fill me in on everything that you told her. You also have to tell me how in the hell you figured out that I was here! I didn’t think anyone knew that we still had the place. It’s in a blind trust, you know. Joe and I are the only owners in the trust. That sure makes it easy to control. Why am I still talking? Spill your guts, man.”

  For the next hour, Brian and Patrick talked about many things; Brian’s conversation with Diane McKinney, old friendships, and old enemies. The conversation finally came around to Danny Vallero’s murder. Brian didn’t know quite how to bring it up, but Pat saved him the trouble.

  “You know, Danny Vallero was gunned down the other day. Shot through the head. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, the bastard. I’d of done it myself if I’d had the chance. You know, since I didn’t get the satisfaction, his ghost has been in here laughing at me. All of those assholes who screwed us are in here laughing at me, Mike, and Joe. Even the ones who aren’t dead. It’s like they’re torturing me for not seeking revenge, laughing at me for being a chicken. I don’t have the guts, they’re saying.”

  “Man, we’ve gotta get you outta here. You’re losing it. Why the hell didn’t you sell this place years ago when you went in the Navy? It’s no good for you now, man!”

  “You’re right, let’s get outta here. I’ve got some major league explaining to do. I survived all those years dealing, all those years in the Navy, and I’m going to die at the hands of my wife.”

  “If she doesn’t, you let me know, cause I’m gonna do it for her. You prick. She’s the best fricking thing that ever happened to you. You go home and make her happy. She’ll probably kill you before you have a chance. I’d hate to be in your shoes, man.”

  “I know. I fucked up big time.” More than you’ll ever know my friend, Pat thought to himself. “Brian, thanks for coming. I still can’t believe you thought to drive all the way here just to find me.”

  “It’s the least I could do, Pat.”

  Pat was sure that Brian Purcer was a believer. He believed that Pat didn’t have the guts to pull off Danny’s murder. That’s what Pat hoped anyway.

  Brian had doubts. He still wondered if Pat was the one who killed Danny. Brian was not as easily swayed as Pat thought. He would keep in touch with Pat and Diane. They both needed a friend. Brian hoped he could maintain both of their friendships. The new one would be pretty easy. It was the life-long friendship that he was worried about.

  Brian pulled out first heading south on Kelly Park Drive. His mini-van had just a little difficulty making the sandy road out of the grove before grabbing the asphalt of the two-lane road. His mind was troubled after the first encounter in over six years with his best friend, Pat McKinney. Pat had aged more than those six years. Even though he was outwardly cool, as he always was, Brian could see something behind Pat’s eyes. Something in the way that Pat would stare, his gaze drifting off to some other place, told a story that Pat wanted to remain untold. Was Pat being straight with him when he’d said that he had no involvement in the Vallero killing? Or was it a lie, a diversion? Did Pat have the balls necessary to kill Danny Vallero and then look his best friend in the eye and say, “I had nothing to do with it?” He hadn’t said that, really. He’d avoided that confrontation altogether by asking the question first. If Brian had asked him directly, could he have lied? Would he lie if Brian asked him sometime in the future? Brian hoped he wouldn’t have to cross that bridge.

  Why would he risk everything that he had in his new life? He had a beautiful wife. No doubt that his kids were beautiful, too. He’d done something only dreamers and fools would consider. He’d made his fortune in a trade that usually leads to one of two endings; long terms in prison or violent deat
h. It was a vicious business, but Pat had known when to pull up stakes, cut his losses, and tally his profits.

  As Brian recalled, it wasn’t by choice. He thought back to when Mike’s new wife was killed. The Orange County Sheriff’s office had lost the key piece of evidence. They thought the prosecution was a slam dunk because of a video tape that they’d found at the scene. The district attorney’s office had botched the case by not obtaining any additional evidence from the crime scene. Then the tape was lost. The loss of that evidence by the Sheriff’s Department caused the charges to be thrown out of court. Shortly after that, Pat and his brothers left town without so much as a good-bye. Pat’s parents also moved. The agony of losing a daughter-in-law was too much to bear. They couldn’t remain in the town where such a horrible crime was committed and no one was punished. Brian wondered how anyone could manage the heartache of losing such a beautiful, wonderful person, so bright and happy. Brian had only his parents and they were still living at the north end of Skyline Drive in Virginia. Brian called them immediately after Julie Mallernee McKinney died. He wasn’t sure why he’d called. He just knew that he had to make that call. He’d found them in good health, his voice sounding scared and apprehensive. Just hearing their voices calmed his heart and from that day forward, he called them at least once a week without fail.

  Brian almost decided to pull off the side of the road. He wanted to make sure that Patrick was behind him, leaving the tortuous four walls of the vault behind. He was pretty confident that Pat had done the appropriate soul search and was heading home to bear his soul to his lovely wife. There were many years, many ghosts, and many scars, physical and mental, that had to be re-opened and properly healed with his one and only love. His wife would understand, Brian thought. It would take time for her to fully comprehend the enormity of the past of the man that she loved. But Brian knew from their brief time together that she was extraordinary and loved Pat in an extraordinary way. Then Brian wondered just how much of this mystery he knew. How much had Pat withheld from him? I may never know. Brian made the turn onto state highway 435 towards Apopka.

 

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