He stared at her expectantly. She said, “What do you want me to do?”
His expression softened and he smiled. “The county doesn’t pay you $95.000 a year to be stupid, I see.”
He stood up and declared. “I want you to perform for me, Cindy. That’s all.”
Cindy looked up into his eyes questioningly. “What do you mean?”
He replied, “I want you to just sit there where you are for a moment or two and then I’ll tell you what I want you to do. And I may as well caution you right now not to try anything foolish like running away. I’m in peak physical condition and can run ten miles a day without breaking a sweat. You got it?”
Cindy nodded, her face white as a sheet.
Stanley winked at her then turned and strode over to the television and switched it off. He went to the other end of the room near the doorway and faced her again. He removed the nylon bag slung over his shoulder and opened up a compartment, took out a Polaroid camera and tripod, then tossed the bag aside. After pulling out the legs of the tripod as far as they would go and tightening them, he attached the camera to the base and adjusted the height by means of the crank arm until the camera was up as high as his chin. He looked through the viewfinder at Cindy sitting on the sofa and moved the tripod in closer toward her until he was satisfied with the composition. Then he stepped back and looked over the room to ensure himself that he’d picked the best angle of view attainable, then breathed a long sigh of satisfaction.
“Stand up, Cindy,” he commanded.
Cindy had to grasp the arm of the sofa to steady herself as she arose to her feet.
“Now come around to the other side of the coffee table and stand there.”
Cindy’s eyes were on the plush carpeting as she stepped out from behind the coffee table, went around to the front and stood there as still as she possibly could.
“Raise your head and look at me,” Stanley ordered, peering through the viewfinder.
Cindy raised her head and looked toward him.
“Will you quit fucking crying for chrissakes!” he snapped. “You’re makeup is running!”
Agitated, Stanley reached into his coat pocket, took out a Kleenex, then went over and began dabbing Cindy’s face in an effort to clean off her mascara-streaked eyes and cheeks. Her head bobbed and quivered each time he touched her and the rest of her body trembled violently.
“I wish you would relax, Cindy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Don’t you want to look good for the camera?”
I… I’m trying,” she moaned, avoiding his eyes.
“There now, that’s better,” he said, standing back and looking her over.
Stanley returned to the camera and looked through the viewfinder. After making a slight adjustment, he said, “Now, Cindy, remove your clothes… slowly.”
“ What?”
“I said to take off your clothes.”
Stanley continued to watch Cindy through the viewfinder as she stared at the wall and began fidgeting with her jacket. Then she suddenly threw her hands up in the air and peered over at him.
“I can’t do it!”
Stanley jumped back from the camera. “Yes, you can, Cindy, and you fucking will do it, by God!”
With that, he stormed over and raised his hand as if to strike her then stopped himself. His rage abated and his expression grew calm again.
“Listen, Cindy. We don’t have all night so I want you to listen closely to what I have to say. If you want to live to see your kids again I suggest that you do exactly as I say. I just don’t understand you gorgeous fucking women! Here you are, with your beautiful bodies and all the things you put yourselves through to keep yourselves that way. Then a man comes along and asks you to show him what you have and you suddenly clam up on him! Now does that make any sense? I’ve seen you in various stages of undress already, so what’s the big problem here? Ha! You didn’t even know that, did you? That’s because I’m good-really good. You haven’t even had an inkling that I’ve been observing you for the past two weeks have you? Well, I have. I’ve seen you in your bathroom taking a bath, in your bedroom getting dressed in the morning, and even in your pool skinny-dipping in the middle of the fucking night. And guess what-I’ve seen you screwing the mayor, too! Bet you thought that was some kind of big secret, didn’t you? I can tell by your expression right now that you’re shocked by all of these revelations, but like I said, I’m good. So I already know what you got there, Cindy, and I want to see it again. Now! So are you going to start taking off those clothes for me or am I going to have to fucking do it for you?”
Cindy was absolutely dumbstruck. She wanted to protest but realized it was useless. She looked around the room for a moment, as if to suddenly discover a miraculous way out of this situation, which she knew didn’t exist. She then looked at Stanley Jenkins in utter defeat and nodded her head slowly.
“Excellent!”
Stanley returned to the camera. He peered though the viewfinder once again and stared as Cindy Fuller removed her jacket. Her eyes avoided the camera when she let the jacket drop to the floor and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“Slowly,” Stanley commanded.
Cindy shot him a pained glance and with trembling hands mechanically undid her blouse, allowing it to fall off her shoulders to the floor. After pulling down her skirt and removing her pantyhose, she stopped and stared at him with pleading eyes.
“The rest, Cindy. Take off the rest,” he insisted, his voice guttural as he continued to peer through the viewfinder.
Cindy sighed in helpless exasperation and undid her bra. She tossed it aside, and with tears streaming out of her eyes, removed her panties.
“Excellent!” Stanley exclaimed. “Say ‘cheese!’”
An instant later, the camera fired-causing Cindy to flinch from the glare of the flash. The camera promptly coughed out a print with a whirring whine and Stanley pulled it the rest of the way out and stuck it into his pocket.
“How about a smile, Cindy?” he coaxed. “And take your hands away from your tits!”
He gaped at her as she hesitantly withdrew her hands from her breasts and let her arms fall limply to her sides. She was sobbing in fear and humiliation as she forced a weak smile that lasted only a second.
“Come on, Cindy, look alive! You know you’re enjoying this just as much as I am. Here I am, admiring that gorgeous bod of yours and it’s making me a very happy camper… You’re fucking pleasing me, Cindy! So give me a show-let’s see your stuff!”
At that moment, Cindy Fuller totally broke down. She started crying hysterically and slumped to the floor, no longer able to deny the pent up terror inside of her.
“Fuck!” Stanley shouted, running over to where Cindy lay writhing on the floor. He thrust his hands in under her arms and tried to force her up to her feet but she was like a dead weight. He let go of her and smacked her face hard with the back of his hand.
“Okay, Cindy. No more Mister Nice Guy. Get up on your feet or I’m going to kick the living shit out of you!”
Cindy remained motionless.
“Last chance!”
Cindy didn’t move.
Stanley brought his arm in under her chin and applied pressure, causing Cindy to choke violently. He held her in a vise-like grip for several moments, then relaxed his hold. Cindy coughed agonizingly and struggled to catch her breath.
“Are you ready to cooperate, Cindy? Or would you like me to finish you off now?”
She shook her head dismally. Stanley lifted her up to her feet and held her until she finished coughing. Then he said, “You’ve really pissed me off Cindy, you know, and I’m beginning to wonder just how much you care about your precious kids. Are you going to start playing ball with me or are you conceding the game?”
She forced herself to say in a broken hoarseness, “Okay, you win.”
Stanley Jenkins grinned victoriously. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
He returned to the camera and looked through the viewfinder
. “Turn around, Cindy. I want your sweet ass to face the camera.”
Cindy turned around.
“Now stay there and don’t move a muscle.”
He stood back and flipped the switch for the self-timer, removed his coat, his eyes never for a moment leaving Cindy’s backside. Then he quickly pulled off his sweat pants, pressed the shutter release button, and ran over to where she was standing.
“Bend over, bitch!” he commanded, then shoved himself into her just as the timer beeped out the final seconds and the camera fired.
Cindy let out an agonizing scream and struggled to break away just as Stanley grabbed her hips in his hands and forced her down onto her knees, continuing to thrust himself into her. Moments later, he withdrew and spun Cindy around, pinning her down flat on her back. He plunged himself into her as Cindy tried desperately to push him off. But she was no match for him as she kicked her feet wildly and clawed him in the back with her fingernails.
“You’re not being a very willing participant,” he panted, staring at her with insatiable lust and malice. “I’m beginning to think that you truly don’t like me one iota!”
He suddenly grasped her breasts in both hands and squeezed them as if checking cantaloupes for ripeness.
“Don’t tell me this doesn’t feel good, bitch. Now are you beginning to see what you missed when you turned down Stanley Jenkins all those years ago? All I ever wanted was this-to fuck your brains out. But you were too good for me, weren’t you, Cindy? Didn’t think I’d be able to give you so much damn pleasure. Thought I was a fucking loser! But now you know. And now I know that you’re a fucking slut, just like all the rest. Big fucking teasing sluts who think they’re shit doesn’t stink. And to think that the only reason I was ever interested in you was because you resembled her so much. But you’re nothing like her-she has class. You are just a cheap imitation of the real thing, you bitch!”
In a sudden fit of uncontrollable rage, Stanley hammered her in the jaw with his fist, sending Cindy’s head reeling to the side. An instant later, he struck her again, this time nearly knocking her unconscious. Cindy moaned incoherently as Stanley sprung up onto his feet and ran over to where the nylon bag was lying on the floor. He reached inside and took out a three-foot length of lamp cord and raced back over to where Cindy lay half conscious on the floor. Her eyes were frozen in terror as he walked around her, forced her up into a sitting position, then drew the lamp cord around her neck from behind.
“Sorry it had to end this way, Cindy,” he declared as he tightened the cord around her neck. “But in spite of the great time I’ve had on our little date, I’m afraid that I’m still going to have to kill you.”
She let out a bloodcurdling screech as Stanley Jenkins pulled the lamp cord taut, causing it to cut into the soft flesh of her neck. Cindy started choking and gasping for breath as he pulled tighter and tighter until she became totally motionless. He let go and watched as her body slumped down to the floor.
Stanley stood up and checked the time-it was almost 9:00. He ran over and quickly removed the camera from the tripod and carried it back over to where Cindy’s body lay. Switching off the self-timer, he aimed and took a quick shot of her. Then he laid the camera aside and stood over Cindy for a moment, staring at her as an interior decorator would while assessing a room’s decor for the first time. Then he began rearranging her body position meticulously until it finally suited him. After retrieving the camera, he experimented with a few angles before snapping three or four shots of Cindy laying flat on her back, her legs spread eagle.
After putting on his sweat pants and coat, Stanley broke down the tripod and placed it into the nylon bag along with the camera and the lamp cord. He scoured the room for any evidence of his ever being there then carried Cindy’s glass into the kitchen and placed it in the sink. He didn’t disturb the bottle of scotch or anything else there, knowing full well that Cindy wouldn’t have bothered with any of it until the next morning.
Just as he was about to return to the den, the phone rang and he felt his heart skip a beat. Stanley stood frozen in his tracks and listened as it rang a total of five times, then ceased. The mayor, he thought to himself with a grin. Most likely checking to see if Cindy had left yet to make their secret rendezvous.
Stanley hastily returned to the den and began putting Cindy’s clothing back on her body. This undertaking proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated and nearly ten minutes passed before he had everything back in place. He picked up Cindy’s body and cradled it in his arms as he made his way out of the den.
When he reached the door leading to the garage, he stopped long enough to catch his breath then opened the door and carried Cindy’s limp body over to where the Mercedes was parked. Stanley swore under his breath when he realized that the passenger door was locked, so he carried her around to the driver’s side and managed to open the door far enough to heave her increasingly cumbersome body onto the seat. With a huff, Stanley turned and went back inside to the kitchen where he found Cindy’s purse and car keys laying on the counter. Returning to the garage, he unlocked the passenger door and opened it, then transferred Cindy’s body over from the driver’s side. He pulled her lower body down as far as he could toward the floorboard until she was out of view from the outside. Sweating profusely from the exertion, Stanley went back inside, made a final look over of the den, turned off the lamp beside the sofa, grabbed up the nylon bag and returned to the garage.
He got into the Mercedes, inserted the key and fired up the engine. Stanley stared at the tachometer. The idle speed, even with the choke engaged, was only about 800 rpm. That certainly won’t do, he thought. After fishing a screwdriver out of the nylon bag, Stanley pulled the hood release button and got out of the car. After raising the hood and locating the idle adjustment screw, he turned it clockwise until the engine was purring along at cruising speed. He then closed the hood and returned to the driver’s seat. He estimated that the rpms would be somewhere around three grand once the car was all warmed up. That should do it.
He depressed the button on the remote garage door opener and waited until the door was fully open before shifting into reverse. The car lurched back with a reverberating squeal and he contemplated lowering the idle a bit but thought against it. Better safe than sorry, he thought; and who gave a tinker’s dam if he had just all but trashed the transmission? It wouldn’t make any difference in a few minutes, anyway.
Halfway down the lengthy driveway, Stanley pressed the garage door button again, just as Cindy would have done. A moment later he pulled away from the house, hoping no one heard the squeal of the patch he’d just laid at the foot of her driveway.
Stanley had learned through his extensive internet research that Portnoy was a small but sprawling Colorado suburb inhabited mostly by affluent residents who conducted most of their business in nearby Denver. The chateau that the mayor used for his liaisons with Cindy was less than a two-mile drive from her home. To get there, she would have merely driven down her street to Ridgemont Road, taken a left hand turn, then descended the steep, winding two lane road until it intersected with Pinecrest Lane. There she would get onto Pinecrest and drive back up the mountain for a half mile or so then pull onto a little unmarked road which was all but obscured from view by the lush, towering pines growing on either side of it. Once on this road, she would drive another quarter of a mile or so until she reached the chateau that was tucked away in the middle of nowhere. The view of the majestic Rockies at their obscure little love nest, Stanley had to admit, was absolutely breathtaking.
Located just before the intersection of Ridgemont and Pinecrest was a sharp, hairpin curve that couldn’t be safely negotiated at any speed in excess of fifteen miles per hour. Along this perilous curve was a short strip of grassy roadside, about thirty feet wide, and beyond that a cliff with a sudden drop-off of perhaps 1500 feet or so. The only barrier standing between the roadside and the cliff was, amazingly, a pathetic guardrail constructed only of treated pine
posts and a pair of wooden beams. Stanley had been elated the first time he’d laid eyes on this engineering faux pas as he noted that this would be a primo site for some less-than-responsible motorist to lose control of his car and go plummeting over a cliff with a vertical drop-off of nearly half a mile.
And tonight Cindy Fuller, he thought with relish, was going to be that luckless motorist.
It was a chilly night and the air smelled of an impending snowstorm. He turned on the car’s heater and zipped quickly along the steep mountain road just as Cindy would have done en route to her rendezvous with the mayor. He’d discovered in the last couple of weeks that she was a reckless and incompetent driver to say the least, often exceeding the speed limit and rarely wearing a seat belt. She had been quite a wild lady in general, as a matter of fact, considering her age and her lofty position in the community.
Stanley would never forget the night he had first followed her to the road that led to the mayor’s private getaway, clueless as to what she could possibly be up to. He recalled getting out of his car and following her on foot from that point on, knowing that she couldn’t be going much further, considering the geography of the area. He had followed her for about fifty yards or so before he came upon a steel gate that blocked the entire breadth of the road. It was secured by a thick chain and a heavy padlock that Cindy evidently had a key to. He had scaled the six-foot fence adjacent to the gate and proceeded along the road until he’d finally reached the edge of the grounds surrounding a small stone house that reminded him of a miniature French manor.
The grounds had been well lit by floodlights and it was no small feat circling the grounds in the thick foliage until he found an area where he could approach the chateau unnoticed. Once he’d made it however, the rest of his mission had been easy. The place was like a fish bowl-more windows than anything else-particularly in the rear of the structure where the patio and hot tub were located as well as a spectacular view of the Rockies.
Stanley had stood hidden behind a tree and watched as the mayor, who had to be sixty if he were a day, lowered his fat naked body into the hot tub and waited for Cindy to join him. She was still inside and Stanley watched her as she stripped off her clothes, retrieved a drink the mayor had apparently prepared for her beforehand, then slinked out onto the patio wearing nothing but a smile. When she reached the hot tub, she leaned over in front of the mayor and let her gorgeous tits dangle before his admiring eyes. Then she had sat down on the edge of the tub with her legs spread wide open and allowed the mayor to stick his fat face in between them and start nibbling…
The May Day Murders Page 21