“Go outside and shut the trunk lid on that Mercedes, Country.”
He checked his watch. Just after ten o’clock and his work was mainly done!
“Goddamn,” Country said, coming back into the room while scratching his head. “Who’s this woman, Ace?”
“Little Bo Peep,” Ace replied. “Carmen give you any problems?”
Country looked at his shoes. “I didn’t untie her, Ace, and I didn’t fuck her.”
“Good.”
Ace grabbed Cathy Kennedy’s arm and jerked her to her feet. Ace removed the gag from Cathy’s mouth. The two women became aware of each other. Carmen looked questioningly at Cathy, as if trying to figure out who she was, and why Ace had kidnapped her. Cathy looked terrified and incapable of calculation.
Ace shoved Cathy onto his bed, where she landed on her side.
“You wanted to fuck someone,” Ace said to Country. “Go ahead, fuck Mrs. Cathy Kennedy, banker’s wife and owner of a jewelry store. Fuck her hard!”
Country frowned, lowered his head and began fumbling with his fingers. “Ah, I don’t want to, Ace. Not with everyone watching.”
“Why not?” Ace said. “Fuck her! Beat her up, too, if you want.” Ace wanted Cathy Kennedy to be totally terrified when she talked to her banker husband, who likely considered himself a captain of industry.
“I don’t want to, Ace.”
Ace walked over to Carmen, bent and looked at her closely, and then began to chuckle. He took off his trousers and undershorts until he stood naked before Carmen. She stared at his erection and immediately wet herself, fearing that her ordeal was about to enter another phase.
Ace then uncuffed Cathy and flipped her over so she lay on her stomach. Ace unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, pulled it off and threw it on the floor. He pulled and ripped off her pantyhose. All the while, Cathy begged him to stop. Then he grabbed her upper thighs, spread her legs and entered her from the back.
Carmen turned her head away so as not to look, but couldn’t shut out the sounds of Ace raping the woman while Country brayed and shouted encouragement. All the time, Ace talked to the Kennedy woman, who cried, begged, moaned, and gasped for air at the same time. “This is just a taste of what your life is going to be like from now on, bitch, if you and your husband don’t do as I say. You thought you were above all this, didn’t you, Mrs. Banker Wife Kennedy? Thought your money would protect you. Well, it won’t. Not from me! If you don’t persuade your husband to give me two million dollars, this is going to happen to you a lot. If he fucks up and doesn’t pay, I’m going to sell you and Carmen over there to some guys who make porno movies, including snuff videos. They’ll pay plenty for some fresh meat. When they’re done with you, you’ll look like raw hamburger! They’ll put your body in a trash compactor.”
Ace finished with a roar. He stood, turned approached Carmen, his erect penis still jerking spasmodically and emitting semen. He grabbed her hair and turned her head to face him, so he could press his genitals against her face. “You’re next, Carmen, if Richey doesn’t do as I say.”
As Ace turned away, Carmen knew he had once again spared her for no reason she could fathom. Ace rummaged through Kennedy’s purse until he found her smart phone. He grabbed Cathy by the arm and pulled her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Ace put one leg on the bed behind Cathy, so his genitals were near her cheek. Ace used the iPhone to take their picture, making sure to include only the bottom half of his body. He checked the result and handed the phone to Cathy. “Send this photo to your husband’s cell phone. Then call him. Tell him he can buy you back for two million dollars.”
Carmen watched as Cathy did as she was told. Then, she talked into the cell phone in a subdued, surprisingly calm voice, “James, someone kidnapped me from home. He wants a two million dollar ransom, James.”
“In large bills, in a Nike sports bag,” Ace prompted, as he once again put on his security guard uniform.
“In large bills, in a Nike sports bag,” Cathy repeated. “He’s serious, James. He’ll kill both of us if you don’t do what he says. Carmen is tied up and can’t help me. He already killed Maria in our garage at home. He raped me. He made me send the picture.”
“Tell him someone will call soon with instructions,” Ace said. Cathy repeated his words and Ace jerked the phone from her hand.
Ace dialed another number and said, “Richey, tell me where you’re at and maybe I’ll let you talk to Carmen.” He paused to listen. “That’s good. But, after you talk to Carmen, get rid of your cell phone. After my call to the cops, they’ll be looking for you. I figure Marshon’s got a burner. Give me that number now. We’ll talk on his phone after this.”
Ace wrote down a number in his small notebook. He handed Cathy Kennedy’s iPhone to Carmen.
“Richey,” she said into the phone. “Yes, I’m all right, but Ace has kidnapped a woman named Cathy Kennedy. She’s right here, Richey. He’s … brutalized her!” As Ace reached out his hand for the phone, Carmen shouted, “We’re in a motel out south, I think!”
Ace grabbed the phone and slapped her face hard. “That’s right, Richey, but we’re just leaving. I’ll get back to you later with instructions. Do a good job and I’ll give you back Carmen, unfucked, along with a nice cash reward. Then, you and Marshon can get on the road. Trust me, Richey, this can still all end well for you, if you just do as I say.”
Then, Ace leaped off the floor and did a pirouette in the air. He landed and did it repeatedly, like a ballet dancer, or Zulu warrior. He laughed and shouted, “It’s working, it’s working, it’s working! Someone will have to make a fuckin’ movie out of this!”
At that moment, it appeared that Ace truly believed he was invincible and that his plan was foolproof. He was only a couple of hours away from total victory. Suddenly, he quit his dance and looked around the room. He said, very businesslike, “Okay, troops, let’s get moving! Country, get your stuff, mainly the shotgun. Don’t leave anything behind.” Ace threw car keys to Country. “You’ll be driving the Chevy outside your door. Take their purses and throw them in the backseat. We might need their I.D., and credit cards. Put the shotgun on the back floorboard, right behind the driver’s seat, so you can reach it.”
While Country went about his tasks, Ace untied Carmen from the bed. He discarded three of the ropes and used the other to bind her wrists in front of her body. He grabbed Cathy Kennedy by the collar of her suit coat and jerked her to her feet.
“Put your skirt back on!” he ordered. When she was done, he cuffed her hands again in front of her body.
Country came back into the room and Ace said, “Watch these two.” He then gathered up the clothes he’d worn yesterday and put them into a black plastic trash bag. He left Cathy Kennedy’s cell phone on the bed. They’d find the car soon, anyway. He didn’t care if they knew she’d been in the motel room.
Ace then ripped up a pillowcase to create two gags. After putting them on Cathy and Carmen, he got behind the two women and maneuvered them toward the exit door in Country’s room.
“Open the door, Country. Step out and look around. See anybody?”
“Nope, Ace, ain’t nobody out here, but it’s starting to rain hard.”
“Good, that will drive everyone inside. Open the trunk of the Caprice.”
After Country opened the trunk lid, Ace violently shoved the two women toward the trunk, pushing, lifting and kneeing them until both were wedged inside the trunk. Ace slammed the lid.
He walked back into the room, looked around, and grabbed the plastic bag, planning to throw it away later. He stepped out and closed the motel room door. He and Country stood under the overhang to avoid the rain. “Okay, you follow me in the Chevy while I drive your truck. We’re just going to the Holiday Inn on the other side of the interstate. You park beside me in the parking lot. We’ll wait there for a call from Kandie, and then you’ll drive your pickup down to the mall to pick up the money. Just like we rehearsed yesterday. Remember?”
“Yeah, Ace.”
“You got your cell phone?”
Country patted his shirt pocket.
“You call me when you got the money and you’re in your pickup. I’ll tell you where I’m at and you can drive over to meet me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, General Ace!”
A similar situation may have prompted Robert Burns to write his famous poem about the best-laid plans of mice and men. They never unfold as exactly planned, otherwise it would be a perfect world — or an imperfect world shaped by individuals like Ace Semanski. But, at this point in time, everything seemed to be going Ace’s way. He’d made a tactical decision not to rape Carmen, so Richey would perform as instructed — even though Ace considered Richey to be a wishy-washy character. On the other hand, he’d brutalized Cathy Kennedy, without even knowing her husband’s temperament. He just assumed James Kennedy would do exactly as he was told, to prevent any more harm to his wife. Perhaps Ace was simply blinded by his hatred of all individuals who comprised the rich upper class — hated them because they excluded him. Whatever the reason, it was a decision he would soon come to regret.
24/Turning The Tables
The first call from Ace to Richey came shortly after nine a.m. while he and Marshon were still at the house, waiting to hear from Jemmy Shoemaker, who had agreed — eagerly, in fact — to intercept Ace, disrupt his plan and force him to reveal the whereabouts of Carmen. Jemmy told Richey not to worry about paying him. When Richey learned how Ace had turned that plan to his advantage, he didn’t say much other than to ask to talk to Carmen. When he took the phone from his ear, Richey’s face had turned a sickly white.
“What’s the matter?” Marshon asked.
“Ace said he’s already got Mrs. Kennedy. He won’t let me talk to Carmen now, but he knows you’re with me.”
“That’s not possible!”
“He said he killed Jemmy. Said he called the cops and told them that you and I kidnapped Cathy Kennedy and killed Jemmy.”
“None of this makes any sense, Richey!”
“It might to the cops! They’ll at least check it out, which means they’ll eventually be knocking on my front door.” Richey began rushing around the house, trying to think of what he needed to take with him. Marshon followed and they carried on a conversation interspersed with private thoughts that each expressed aloud, perhaps unconsciously.
“Shit, there’s nothing here I really need,” Richey said, suddenly coming to a stop in the bathroom.
“He can’t have killed Jemmy!”
“How’d he know about him being there at the Kennedy’s house, then?”
Marshon just shook his head.
It was Richey’s turn to look astounded. “Why would he call the police? If he kidnapped Carmen to force me to do something, why shine a spotlight on me?”
Marshon suddenly looked horrified. “When Ace called, what phone number appeared on your cell phone?”
Richey checked the call log and showed the number to Marshon who exclaimed, “Oh, my God!” No other explanation was necessary. Ace had Jemmy’s phone!
While Richey worried about Carmen, so did Marshon grieve Jemmy’s death, although he didn’t entirely believe the version Ace had told Richey. Ace could have stolen Jemmy’s phone. He was simply trying to panic them. Nevertheless, the burner phone Marshon had used to communicate with Jemmy was now compromised, so he took out the battery and threw the case in a trashcan. He’d dispose of the battery outside, later on. He still had one of the phones he’d purchased at the Hyatt. On a more calculating level, Marshon decided that now was the time for him to get on the road. He just needed a ride from Richey.
Richey was on the same page. “We got to get out of here, Marshon, and get rid of my car. In fact, I’m going to leave all of my I.D. here in the house. I’ll keep my cell phone only until Ace calls again.”
“You’re right. Let’s go. Don’t forget your gun.”
Marshon refocused on the problem at hand, which was to get out of the city without being arrested. He thought aloud, so Richey could agree or disagree. “Ace is sowing chaos for a purpose, Richey. He’s still got something in mind for you, but he wants you on the run, unsettled, so you literally don’t have time to think. Me, I’m just another bargaining chip in case he gets caught. By calling in a fake tip to the police, he’s confusing them, too. Now, it’s you said, he said, I said, she said. The cops typically will settle all the confusion by accusing all of us of being involved in the kidnapping.”
“What now, Marshon?”
“Let’s take your car to the nearest car rental place. I got a clean identity and we can rent a new ride.” Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. “You got any suitcases?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because we hope to be traveling out of the city, at least I do. We might need them, at least for cover when checking into a hotel. New clothes. We’ll need to abandon these disguises, which may already be compromised.”
“I’m not going anywhere until Carmen is safe,” Richey declared.
“I know, I’m just trying to think ahead.” Marshon didn’t say anything, but he was also thinking about the ransom. That’s what the kidnapping was all about. According to Richey, he and Ace had talked about various ways to pick up the ransom. In an ideal situation envisioned by Marshon, they killed Ace, freed the women and skipped town with the money. It would partly compensate Marshon for all his recent bad luck, and the money it had cost him, plus it could insure his safe escape. He’d have a big carrot to offer Dahlgren.
Richey got the suitcases out of a closet. One had four wheels on the bottom, plus a pull handle. The other fit inside the bigger case, but it only had two wheels and a retracting pull handle. Richey put them into the trunk of his car.
On the way to the rental agency, the burner phone Marshon had bought at the Hyatt rang. He looked at the numerical display in utter amazement, before answering, “Gail?” He paused, listened and then said, “What! Oh, my God, it’s true then! No, Jesus, no!”
Richey nearly ran off the road reacting to, and trying to read, the emotions reflected in Marshon’s voice and facial expressions. As Richey turned down a side street one block from the car rental agency, Marshon said into the phone, “I gotta go, Gail. I’ll call you back later today. If the police come by your work or apartment, get rid of your burner phone. Dump it in the trash chute. Wipe off your fingerprints first.”
Richey parked his Honda Civic on the street and said, “What’s going on?”
Marshon took a deep breath, as if to replenish his depleted oxygen supply. “Gail saw an early morning television news report about a man dead in a car that was parked on the street in an affluent residential area between the Plaza and the Country Club. The newsies picked up on it from police radio traffic. A cameraman got a long-range shot of a black Cadillac with personalized license tags: JEMMY. The report quotes the police as saying it’s a possible kidnapping in progress.”
“How did Ace find out about Jemmy?” Richey asked, in amazement.
Marshon shook his head. “Any possibility he bugged your house? Ace didn’t give you any electronic equipment, did he?”
Richey could only shake his head negatively.
“Otherwise, he just stumbled upon Jemmy and killed him and saw an opportunity to create another false trail. Every minute he buys for himself increases the possibility he will pull off this whole ransom thing, now that he has Cathy Kennedy.”
Huddled under an umbrella Richey kept in his car, they walked in the rain to an Enterprise car rental facility. Marshon rented a dark blue Buick Regal, using the I.D. Jemmy had purchased from the forger, Maleeka Mankin. Marshon was still Caleb McDear. They drove around the block to the side street where Richey’s car was parked, and transferred the suitcases. Marshon wiped his fingerprints from inside Richey’s car. He only briefly considered the excuse Richey might offer for parking his car on the street.
Then, they drove several blocks away before Marshon suggested they
go through a McDonald’s drive-through. “I need to get something on my stomach before I take my antibiotics,” he explained. “When’s the last time you ate? We need to be sharp today, Richey. Order something. Coffee.”
While they waited in the pickup line, Richey looked at Marshon and then checked his own appearance in the vanity mirror attached to the sun visor. “If they broadcast our driver’s license photos, no one may recognize us, with these disguises.”
Marshon sniffed. “Jesus, I been wearing these clothes since Thursday.”
Richey continued: “You got fake I.D. and I don’t have any I.D. on me. I can give a good performance as an old man with Alzheimer’s who can’t remember his name or address. You can say you saw me wandering on the street and are trying to figure out where I live.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. The roulette ball is gonna have to fall into every right number from here on out, Richey. You know the odds of that.”
Richey received the second call from Ace and said, “Yes, we’re on the road in another car.” Richey looked at Marshon. “Ace says we need to get rid of my phone. The police will be tracing it. He wants your number.”
Marshon frowned, but then highlighted his phone number and showed it to Richey, who read the number to Ace.
Richey said, “Carmen, are you okay? What is Ace up to? Where are you?”
Richey listened for several seconds, but then the call ended. He looked at Marshon with anguish on his face, about the same time the clerk handed Marshon their order. Marshon handed the bag to Richey and pulled over into a parking space.
The Money Game Page 42