Ken's Tale & the Peterson Dilemma - Desperate Prequels
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belongings.
Again, Stanley wondered about his daughter. There had only been a brief flash of emotion after Thurber had murdered her new boyfriend, but it had passed like a dark cloud over the golf course. He marveled at her practical mind, thinking that she’d be more than capable of handling the family fortune the moment the insanity stopped and everything returned to normal. This was good news; Paula’s intestinal fortitude had recently come into question and he and Mary had argued about what to change in the Will. They both loved their daughter, but Mary didn’t think she was capable of handling the estate. The Peterson’s were nearly billionaires, and Paula’s mental status was no small matter. There was one thing that both Stanley and Mary agreed upon; Jimmy Logan wouldn’t see a penny of their money, the Peterson’s were convinced he was a gold-digger and everything was to go into a Trust if Paula married him.
Stanley had no doubt that Mary was in shock. She hadn’t spoken a word since the shooting and Stanley was somehow happy about that. She wasn’t complicating things by adding her ideas, nor was she emotional considering what had just transpired. He watched her as she packed her things, choosing practical clothing over her thousand dollar outfits. Stanley followed her, adding a charcoal sports jacket, in case the opportunity to wear it presented itself.
The bags were loaded into the Mercedes and Carl waited at the kitchen door for his instructions. They were leaving their home, that much was certain. What hadn’t been discussed was where they’d go. All eyes fell upon him as Stanley poured himself a glass of wine. He drank it down in one steady gulp and tossed the glass against the wall, where it exploded into a thousand jagged little pieces. “Ready to shove off, Carl?”
“Yes sir,” replied the diminutive butler.
“Any ideas?”
“No sir, I was hoping you’d have a plan.”
“Right,” Stanley said, and then he suddenly turned to Paula. “Sweetheart, I’d like to ask you about Jimmy’s friends. Do you think we’d be welcomed there? He insinuated as much on the telephone. I think we should consider the possibility of riding this out up there, providing that it’s all right with you.”
“No sir,” interrupted Carl, his face turning a shade of red. “We don’t want to go there; you can trust me on that. Jimmy Logan is a two-bit thug, begging your pardon, Miss Paula. What are we supposed to do if he turns us away? No, I think it’s a bad plan, in case you want my opinion.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” snapped Stanley, pointing a finger in Carl’s direction. “Don’t you dare interrupt me again, Carl, am I making myself clear? Don’t you ever forget who is in charge here, I make the decisions.”
“You asked me if I had any ideas.”
“And you said that you didn’t. I was speaking to my daughter. Paula, I was asking you a question, I’d like to hear your response.”
“Jimmy loves me, of course we would be accepted there,” said Paula, lighting one of her menthol cigarettes. “It’s a four hour drive, but it’s far away from here. I think it’s a good plan and the Dahlgren’s are simple people. I know the way up there and they’ll take us in.”
Stanley nodded his head and just like that, the decision was made. From what they’d heard, the dollar was nearly worthless and commerce had ended earlier in the day. They would have one tank of gasoline to find their refuge, and the Dahlgren’s lake home sounded like a good place to hide. Stanley could see Carl wasn’t happy with his decision, but that mattered little to him. The only thing that mattered was taking Jackson’s advice and getting to safety as soon as possible. Stanley nodded towards the door.
The four hour journey would last many days and there were times that Stanley was sure they’d all be killed. Their home a distant memory, the group plodded their way to the north. The trip would strip them of their dignity and change the way they looked at the world.