“You said you thought Gail would say no. Then, you’ll just drop her?”
Marshon sat back and shrugged. Men talk about sex and sexual conquest; they usually don’t talk about love and relationships, unless they are exceptional men.
“I don’t know exactly what love is, Richey. It starts out as sexual attraction. God knows, I’ve always been attracted to Gail in that way. Then, you get comfortable, especially after your partner decides to stay with you even after they hear you snore and fart.”
Richey joined it. “And accept the fact that you pee in the shower.”
“Exactly. Hopefully, both of you get to a stage where you also like each other, after sex is over.”
“Ah, life’s most enjoyable four minutes.”
“Gail’s smart, God knows. She’s ethical and loyal. Hard-working and trustworthy.”
“The whole package.”
Marshon wagged a cautionary finger. “Unless she can’t accept my lifestyle. I think that’s the critical point at which relationships flourish or flounder, Richey. Everything else may be perfect, except when your woman says, ‘you can’t do what you’ve been doing, or want to do. You have to work a job and live a lifestyle that’s acceptable to society, and to me.’ To me, that’s not love. That’s manipulation and control. That’s when love ends.”
As usual, Richey had a line from a movie to provide an exclamation point to Marshon’s conclusion. “In that classic movie, Love Story, one of the characters — I don’t remember who, probably the one played by Ali McGraw — says that love is ‘never having to say you’re sorry’.”
“Tell you what, Richey. After your Saturday night performance, the four of us will get together for dinner, just like we planned. You, me, Gail and Carmen. We’ll introduce our plan to the women, in a vague, roundabout way, and see how they react. What do you say?”
“Okay.”
Marshon slid out of the booth and stood. He pulled an envelope out of an inner jacket pocket and laid it on the table. “You get the bill for lunch, Richey. This will help out. Give another five to Ace and tell him to be gone soon, otherwise Jemmy will pay him a visit. The rest should tide you over until I call in a couple of weeks and tell you where we’re gonna kick off our new operation. Don’t let this opportunity go by, my friend.”
Richey sipped from the martini as he watched Marshon walk out the door. He picked up the envelope and thumbed through the bills inside. It looked to be about fifteen thousand dollars. The remaining question was: would Carmen come with him, or would she propose an alternative? Might it be something equally attractive? What if he had to choose? Richey, an expert on odds making, thought the situation looked like win-win, but that’s been the downfall of many a gambler.
For his part, Marshon had had an exceptional day: he’d spun off The Wheel and the prostitution business, and guaranteed himself a very nice semi-retirement income. Then, he recruited a good friend and partner to help implement a newer and better money-making scheme in an exotic Caribbean Island setting. It appeared that everyone would profit substantially — Marshon, Jemmy, Widja, and Richey. But fate is fickle. In a little more than a week, two would be dead and two would be the objects of a nationwide manhunt.
14/Stalking The Victim
Ace and his new best buddy, Country, went on the first of several scouting trips that eventually would generate a crisis in the life of everyone they knew. First, they visited Sweetwater Mall, which was about a quarter-mile south of The Stadium. They parked on the west side and entered through JC Penney, where Ace bought a three-pack of briefs. They walked down the main concourse until Ace stopped and sat on a bench across from Belton Jewelers.
“What we doin’ here, Ace?”
“Takin’ a break, buddy boy.”
“Can we eat upstairs in the food court, Ace? It’s after eleven.”
“Run up there and get what you want. You got the cell phone I gave you? I’ll call you when I’m ready to go. You come running then, understand?”
“Yeah, Ace. I never had a cell phone before. I didn’t know how to get one. The people who sold them asked too many questions and they got a book you have to read to make ʼem work.”
Ace had purchased four pre-paid burner phones at a Walmart, and gave one to Country. He showed the idiot the button to push to answer the ringing phone, and the number one speed dial button to push and hold if he wanted to call Ace. Those were the only instructions Country needed. Ace also planned to give a phone to Kandie, and keep the others until needed. It was all part of his elaborate plan developed in prison.
The jewelry store opened onto the mall’s main walkway, as well as a perpendicular hallway leading outside to the north parking lot. Only one potential customer wandered through the store as Ace settled into his vigil. Two female employees busied themselves with various duties: one fiddled with jewelry arrangements in a glass display case, while the other used glass cleaner to remove finger smudges from the top of the cases. A male employee kept a close eye on the customer.
Ace had shown a newspaper clipping to Richey the night Richey was fired. The article was about local socialite Cathy Kennedy, who threw lavish parties and spent her banker husband’s money to buy a jewelry store. A trinket to toy with.
Ace wasn’t just sitting across from Belton’s hoping that Cathy Kennedy might show up to review the books or give the employees a pep talk. He knew she’d be here today just before noon. About a week ago, Ace sat in the same spot, trying to figure out how to determine Cathy’s schedule.
An opportunity arose when one of Belton’s employees, a middle-aged woman named Maggie Iscaria, went on a coffee run to Starbucks down at the other end of the mall. Ace followed and got in line behind her. He put a hand on Maggie’s shoulder, and said, “Hey, you work at Belton’s, don’t you? I bought a watch there several weeks ago. Heard the store was just sold. How’s that working out?”
He knew it was going to work out well for him when Maggie didn’t object when he kept his hand on her shoulder. It was his experience that a woman who didn’t mind you touching her arm or shoulder probably would let you touch her in other places. They sat and talked that day, although Ace didn’t say much. He listened attentively and encouraged Maggie to tell him as much about herself as time permitted, which turned out to be quite a bit. She was new at Belton’s, having previously worked as a secretary. She lost that job during a cutback, and needed to work because she was a single mother of two kids. Ace insisted on knowing their names and ages. In Ace’s experience, it was relatively easy to get close to a divorcee with kids. Such women had only one major interest and they all shared a common concern.
Two more meetings in the mall with Maggie, and a dinner at Olive Garden, led to a marathon fucking session, after which Maggie admitted she hadn’t had two consecutive toe-curling orgasms since she’d been in her twenties. After that, Ace owned her and Maggie told him everything she knew about Cathy Kennedy, including her schedule for visiting the store. Cathy always came about noon on Friday to check the books. According to Maggie, Cathy loved to regale her staff with stories of her lifestyle, perhaps so they could at least enjoy being rich vicariously. Ace learned that Cathy always met with a group of women Saturday morning in Tremont Plaza for brunch, followed by a shopping trip, or perhaps a visit to the museum or some traveling exhibit. Her husband worked at the bank on Saturday mornings and they met about two o’clock at the Country Club for a snack and tennis. Most Saturday nights they had a party at the house.
Ace was jarred from his thoughts when he saw her walking toward him. He recognized Cathy Kennedy from the newspaper photo of her and her banker husband. Cathy had a distinctive puffed-up hairdo dyed a shimmering platinum color. She wore an orangish suit with a double row of black buttons on the coat. She appeared younger than she did in the black-and-white newspaper photo. Probably in her late thirties or early forties, Ace guessed. Cathy looked well-tended, befitting a banker’s wife. She was the banker’s second wife, according to Maggie. Ace figured se
cond wives married for money, having learned that nothing depreciates as fast as love. Cathy Kennedy walked with authority and looked right through Ace as if he wasn’t there.
As she turned into Belton’s, Ace admired her nicely rotating derriere, which looked firm but yet had a nice bounce to it. She didn’t know it now, but Ace planned to see that butt in the bare, sometime in the near future. He didn’t plan to ask her permission to squeeze it, either.
Ace was startled from his reverie by Kandie’s voice, as she said, “Ace, what are you doing here?”
He stood and turned sideways to face his girlfriend of the moment. “Picked up some underwear in JC Penney. Country’s upstairs in the food court. What are you doing here?”
Kandie pointed to a nearby shop. “I’m with Carmen Salazar. She’s over there in Hallmark, see? Carmen took a long lunch hour and invited me along to help her shop for birthday party gifts for Marisa. She’s turning twelve on Sunday.”
Carmen soon joined them and Ace played the role of delighted friend. “Congratulation on Marisa turning twelve. Nearly a teenager. Are you ready for those years, Carmen!”
“Not at all.”
“Carmen’s also looking for a gift for Richey. He got a part in a play. What is it, Carmen?”
“He’s going to play Willy Loman in Arthur Miller’s play, Death of a Salesman.”
“Really,” Ace said. “Where at? Kandie and I will come.”
“Yeah, Carmen, where is the play?” Kandie asked.
Carmen reluctantly provided the information. “It’ll be performed in Cranston Hall, on the third floor of The Shops downtown.”
Ace feigned disappointment. “Richey didn’t give me the details, although I’d heard he won a big part. When’s opening night?”
“A week from today, in fact,” Carmen said.
“What did you get for Richey?” Kandie asked. “For his opening night gift.”
“Nothing yet. I’m thinking about a gold bracelet,” Carmen answered.
“You should have it engraved,” Ace said. “It might say, ‘The performance of a lifetime.’”
Carmen was temporarily speechless. “Actually, that’s a great idea.”
Kandie was all over Ace. “You’re so smart and so good!”
“Look over in Belton’s,” Ace said. “I’m sure they got something good. Ask for Maggie Iscaria.” Later, Kandie would ask how he knew her, and Ace would be vague, but hint at a possible sexual attraction. It would make Kandie even more desperate and loyal.
About that time, Cathy Kennedy walked out of Belton’s and Ace said, “Ladies, I gotta run. Got an appointment about a job. See you later, Kandie. You get off work at eleven, right? I’ll pick you up?”
As Ace walked away, Kandie grabbed Carmen’s arm, and exclaimed, “Oh, my God! A job. Maybe he’ll stay. He gave notice on his apartment. He’s staying somewhere with Country. I was afraid he’d leave town. I asked him to move in with me.”
“What did he say?”
“Said he’d think about it.”
“Are you sure, Kandie?”
“Absolutely. He treats me and the kids real nice. He’s teaching Lloyd how to box. You know what kind of patience that takes? Sam treated me and his kids like shit. That guy, Hank, who I dated when I first moved up here, he liked to knock me around now and then. Thought I liked it! Ace sure settled his hash, huh! And, there’s one thing more.” Kandie looked around to make certain no one in the crowd milling about them was eavesdropping. “You remember how we used to sit in The Stadium and talk about the prince on a white horse? Well, let me tell you, Ace is hung like a horse. Now, I’m not trying to be crude, Carmen, but I don’t mind being rode hard and put away wet, as Ace puts it. It’s just one more thing about him to love. Why don’t you like him, Carmen?”
“I didn’t say I disliked him,” Carmen replied defensively. “He looks rough and … dangerous.”
Kandie slipped her arm through Carmen’s as they walked toward Belton’s. “Ace had a rough upbringing in Chicago, I think. He had to fight to survive. He’s got a lotta scars. He just got used to looking tough and mean so people would leave him alone. But, he’s not like that really. When you get to know him better, Carmen, then you’ll understand the real Ace.”
Meanwhile, Ace called Country on the burner phone and told him to hightail it to the car. If he wasn’t there in a few minutes, Ace would leave him behind.
Outside the mall building, in the parking lot, Ace fell in behind Cathy Kennedy, staying about ten feet back. She walked with authority, too. He followed her until he heard the chirp of an electronic key. The lights flashed on a gray 500-series Mercedes coupe. Cathy turned down that aisle.
Ace double-timed it toward his beat-up Sentra, which he had backed into a space near 95th Street, so he’d have a comprehensive view of the parking lot on the northwest side of the mall. He opened the driver’s side door and stepped up onto the doorframe to elevate himself above the car’s roof. He saw the Mercedes driving toward a mall exit leading onto southbound Longnecker Road. About that time, Country showed up on the run, carrying and licking an ice cream cone.
Ace caught up to the Mercedes at the second traffic light. Her car had one of the new license tags with a picture of the state bird superimposed over three subtle colors — white, blue and yellow — presumably to complicate the work of counterfeiters. Ace wrote down the license tag number in a small spiral notebook.
“Why you doin’ that, Ace?”
“We need to keep track of this lady, Country. I might let you fuck her later on.”
“What’s she look like, Ace?”
“What difference does that make? She has a hole between her legs!”
Another mile south and Mrs. Kennedy exited to the east on the Beltway. Ace guessed her destination. She was going to the headquarters of the First United Bank on Melrose Avenue.
“Where we goin’, Ace?”
“For a ride. Sit back, shut up, and take a nap.”
“I ain’t tired, Ace. When are we going to The Stadium? I like to play the video games there, especially the one where I get to ride a motorcycle.”
“In about a half-hour, forty-five minutes, okay?”
“’Cept, I ain’t got no money, Ace, now that you told me to quit my job at Biederman’s.”
“What else did I tell you?”
“You said we’d have plenty of money, next week.”
“Exactly.”
“But today ain’t next week, Ace.”
He gave the dummy a frightening stare, which caused Country to look down and fiddle with his fingers.
When the Mercedes turned left into the bank’s parking lot, Ace turned right into the parking lot of an Embassy Suites hotel across the street from the bank. Twenty minutes later, at approximately one-thirty, the Kennedys emerged arm in arm. Ace looked at them through a pair of binoculars. The perfect couple: the silver-haired lion of finance and his trophy wife.
“Here, take a look, Country. Think she looks like a good fuck?” Ace asked, writing notes in the notepad. “You think they’re going for a late lunch or home for a quickie?”
“I don’t know, Ace.”
They followed the Kennedys for about a mile until the Mercedes turned into the parking lot of Kudos, a trendy restaurant.
“Predictable,” Ace said, blowing out his breath. “A dry martini, even drier conversation and very expensive, unappetizing food. Me, I prefer a nooner that has flesh slapping flesh, with lots of screaming and moaning, followed by the sudden gush of body fluids! At least a half cup of cum, right Country!” He pounded his fist on the dashboard. “Right!”
“Damn right, Ace, damn right!” Country exclaimed, drooling like an overheated dog.
Ace turned onto the Grumman Parkway and drove north, exiting just before Tremont Plaza and turning onto Fifty-Seventh Street.
“I wanna see their house. See how the other half lives.”
“Who, Ace?”
“The people we were following.”
&
nbsp; “Who was we following, Ace?”
“Mickey and Minnie Mouse!”
The “house” and lot took up an entire block. The early twentieth century brick three-story with a wraparound veranda sat on a hill several hundred feet from the street. A knee-high brick wall supported an iron fence that surrounded three sides of the property. A carriage house converted to guest quarters sat behind the main residence.
Ace drove by the front of the estate on a street that led into a country club and golf course. Following two right turns, they drove down a street running along the back of the estate. An eight-foot high solid brick wall blocked their view, as well as that of the homeowners on the other side of the street.
As Ace drove by the front of the house again, he suddenly became enraged, hammering the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “These fuckin’ people! Who do they think they are! Goddamned fuckin’ banker! He doesn’t do any work. He just handles the money for people who do, except he makes sure he gets a big taste. Parasites, that’s all the fuck they are! Leeches. Suck the blood outta hard-working people so they can buy anything they want. A Mercedes and a Lexus. Big fuckin’ house behind locked gates. Probably worth several million. What you wanna bet they got servants, Country? Probably a gardener, too. A Rolls Royce in that garage. That cocksucker Kennedy probably keeps a mistress in that little house out back, saying she’s a maid. His wife probably doesn’t even give a shit! These fuckin’ people, they deserve whatever bad thing happens to them. And real bad things are gonna happen, real goddamn soon!”
Country remained quiet during and after the scary outburst and didn’t ask any questions for a change. He continued his effort to tie his fingers into knots.
Ace headed back south and, within a few blocks, he reverted to being Dr. Jekyll. “Oh, well, they got, we don’t. You still a wannabe, Country?”
Like a trained dog, Country remembered the response that would get him a treat. “I’m a have-not and a wannabe, Ace.”
The Money Game Page 23