Deadly High School Reunion
by Robert C. Waggoner
Copyright 2012 Robert C. Waggoner
Smashwords Edition
The Victim
"Veronica, get me a drink," said Phillip Street. "I need a stiff belt to fortify my thinking about a forty year high school reunion. I'd just as soon forget about that time of my life." Philip held the form letter in his left hand while strutting around his study. His timid wife hurried to fulfill his drink wish. She plopped in a few ice cubes and poured twenty year old scotch over the top. His timing was perfect as she handed him the glass as he passed by.
Veronica stared as his back as he moved to the large bay window to re-read the invitation. She crossed herself, but wished he'd choke on the drink. For more years than she cared to remember, being married to a self centered, egotistical, pathetic, man such as Phillip, had no one to blame but herself.
She inwardly shivered as he turned, lowered his head, and looked at her over his prince-nez resting on the bridge off his long nose. As if reading her thoughts he smiled, showing off a perfect set of caps that cost a small fortune. "My dear wife, now that I've thought about it, it might be fun to see how our classmates have fared over the years. What do you think?"
It didn't matter what she thought. He'd do whatever he wanted to do regardless of whether or not she approved or disapproved. She said, "I'd love to go. It's a good excuse to buy a new dress and get my hair done." She took a long pull on her glass of vodka. At this time of evening, she needed to be careful that she didn't trip nor stumble as being three sheets to the wind, made balance difficult.
With purpose she walked to her usual chair and sat down. She said, "How's things at the office Phillip?"
"Now, really my dear wife, do you give a shit what my day has been like?"
"I try to take an interest in what you do Phillip. I realize that you're firm is the best in the state and I heard a rumor you were being considered for a judgeship."
A smug look told her he was a shoe in. It would seem his life had been mapped out from high school through law school. And now his skinny ass was destined to sit atop the high court. Her last thought was to pity his underlings in his court and said a prayer for all the bodies left in his wake to the top.
The Victims Offspring
While Phillip and Veronica were having cocktails, Joel Street burst into the study breathing hard. In both appearance and personality he was a carbon copy of his father. It was commonly known he wanted his father's office in the worst way. He marched to his father's desk and opened a folder saying, "Sign here Dad. I'll camp out on the door steps of the judge to get these documents on file Monday morning. I'll be out of town all weekend so put your mark here." He held a pen up to his father and glanced back and forth at him and his mother. Noting nothing out of the ordinary, he waited for his father to sign the documents. The signing out of the way he nodded to his mother and scurried out the door.
Phillip said, "Now there goes a real piece of work. He thinks I'm going to make him the head of the firm, but little does he know what my plans really are. Once I'm a judge, well, I made it on my own he can just do the same as I did."
Phillip polished off his drink and went to the wet bar for a refill. Veronica held her glass up knowing full well he would ignore her sign for a refill. As he was pouring a healthy slug into his glass, the familiar voice of his daughter irritated his ears.
Jill Street with a voice that bordered on the baritone, bade them a good evening. Veronica got up and gave her daughter a hug. Phillip moved over to his chair and sat down completely ignoring his daughter. Nothing could be worse for a parent than to find out his daughter was gay. In this case, she shocked them when she turned sixteen announcing she was a lesbian and that was that.
Her father made it very clear that she was excluded from his will. Now at thirty years of age, she was dead broke and had lost her significant one to another woman. She wanted to move home and he refused to let her move back in. She appealed to her mother, but she could only slip her a few bucks once in a while. If Phillip found out he would literally beat the hell out of her.
For the last six months, she and her mother had been forming a plan.
The Suspects
On the other side of town, Bill [Willie] White, owner and editor of the local newspaper sat in his family room having a glass of wine with his guest, Nellie Ponds. They had been friends since high school and after his divorce from Tammy White, became a fixture every Friday night at Willie's house.
Nellie dug through her bag for the invitation to the high school reunion. Putting on her reading glasses, she said, "You are cordially invited to our forty year high school reunion on April 1st of this year. Please RSVP so we can make appropriate plans at the local Elks Club. Well, Willie, I'd not miss this for the world. How about you?"
Taking a large pull on the cheap white wine, he said, "Yes, me too. I read mine today and already sent off my agreement to attend. The only drawback will be, if he comes, and I've no doubt he will be there to gloat, is Phillip Street. I'll never forgive that bastard for what he did to me in the locker room one time. It really baffles me someone hasn't done him in by now."
Nellie Ponds flashed back when she foolishly accepted Phillips request for a date. He'd seemed so charming at the time. She'd only agreed because it would be a double date with Tammy and her boyfriend, Randy Rhine. As it turned out, Tammy and Randy were never in the picture and she spent the night fighting off Phillip's advances. The next Monday at school he had a hard time explaining the long scratch marks down his left cheek.
Nellie said, "You know Willie, I agree with you. Why hasn't someone killed that worthless piece of shit? I think it's time to say my thoughts at this coming reunion."
Willie raised his glass and said, "Here's to the coming reunion."
Time for a Tune Up
Sam Polly had his head under the hood of an old Chevy pickup truck. He yelled at his understudy, Dwayne Putz, "Bring me a 9/16 dick head." Dwayne hurried to fetch the end wrench as Sam waited, reading the form letter for the high school reunion that sat on top of the air cleaner. Sam bumped his head as he raised his head a little to read the small print. "I've no time for this reunion bullshit," he said to Dwayne as he took the wrench in his greasy hand. Dwayne just starred at his idol, wondering what the hell the town's premier mechanic was talking about.
While doing his job, Sam dug back in his memory bank to recall his high school days. It was true enough that he did have some good times drinking beer with his buddies, but that time when Phillip Street put the screws to him made him boil with rage.
In vivid detail he recalled working on Phillips 1957 Chevy two door hardtop. Phillip wanted the fastest car in school and used Sam to make it so. Sam spent many hours working on his car for nothing. Phillip stiffed him and Sam never forgot it. Phillip always had an excuse and always had friends around to protect him.
Dwayne would later testify that he heard Sam say, "Maybe Mr. Dickhead Phillip Street will get his just deserves come reunion night."
Bitter Wall Flower
Even further across town from the upscale neighborhood of Phillip Street's, Loren Ripple had a death grip on her copy of the high school reunion invitation. At first she delighted in knowing she would see some long forgotten classmates and past friends. Then a dark cloud passed over her thinking about Phillip Street being there in all his glory. The horrid memories came flooding back, along with the pain she associated with his name.
Sitting at her kitchen table, she looked out the back window vividly seeing her months at the unwed home for expectant mothers. The shame she felt; the loss of communication with her classmates; the total absence of the father who h
ad deposited the seed and the humiliation of being the only one in school that had to leave under the guise of a sick aunt needing help in a far away city. Maybe this was the time and opportunity to make right the wrong of the past.
Chief Suspect
In downtown proper, Chief of Police, Sean Pastor, with his feet up on the desk, read with interest the form letter telling him about the class reunion. He was not sure about going and rehashing old memories. Something's were just better forgotten and not brought back to light. High school remained a dark period of his life. The main reason was Phillip Street. He'd never discussed what happened with anyone; not even his wife.
There were times when Sean, in the line of duty, had to be in the same court room as the evil Phillip, but he always remained civil. However, now that he had his thirty years in, retirement secure, maybe it was time to reveal what the shithead had done forty years ago.
Teacher Confidentiality
Lynn Aspen looked very much the same when he was teaching science at the high school many years ago. The major difference was his white hair crew cut, instead of black. He was proud of the fact he was the same weight since college. His idol in the past was Dick Clark of American Bandstand fame. The difference between the two was the fact Lynn Aspen never had a facelift.
The key to his health was physical activity. He was a true believer in walking and making the heart work. Lynn loved to cook. In the summer time you could always find him in his garden tending his organically grown veggies.
Today he was especially happy seeing the invitation to attend a forty year high school reunion. He smiled thinking about how lucky he was as very few years passed without him attending a reunion. He loved his students and they loved him.
He did the mental math to pin point the year in question. Slowly the faces came back of the class of nineteen sixty three. Once again he smiled and then a deep frown crossed his brow.
Lynn was on his way to the garden when the face of Phillip Street raised its ugly picture in his mind. Lucky for him he was next to an apple tree as he reached out for support. In his more than forty years teaching, never had he a worse behaved student than Phillip Street. Occasionally he would read about him in the paper, but for the most part, tried to forget the four years he had Phillip for a student.
The thought of Phillip Street ruined his afternoon. Lynn returned to the house. He busied himself in the kitchen making some afternoon tea. Maybe that would make the image of Phillip go away. However, it was not to be as Lynn took his memories into the living room and found the yearbook he was looking for on his bookshelf. He sat down in his reading chair and leafed through the yearbook refreshing his memory of the students with the coming reunion. By the time he reached the 'S' in the senior graduating class, the boyish look of Phillip Street glared back at him. He closed the book and shut his eyes remembering when Loren Ripple shared her secret with him. At the time he first thought of his job and now he wished he'd followed up on seeing Phillip own up to the responsibility of making Loren pregnant. Maybe it was time to set the record straight.
Lynn looked on the fireplace hearth and saw his wife's picture smiling back at him. For the last year he'd been utterly lost without her. Time to do some serious thinking, he thought.
April 1st, Reunion Night.
Phillip Street, sporting a new Armani suit, custom made light blue silk shirt and dark blue tie, looked into the mirror with pure pleasure written on his face. His silver hair recently styled; Rolex securely attached to his thin wrist; and a blood red ruby ring where usually a wedding band resided on his manicured fingers. He noted the time and said, "Veronica, its reunion time. Shake your ass and let's go."
Veronica had paced herself all day with her drinking. She'd had a morning bracer, and then left for the hairdresser. Her afternoon was taken up by a dress fitting. At six pm her makeup professional would come to apply the finishing touches. She was determined to be relatively sober by the time they arrived at the Elks Club.
When Phillip hollered out the go signal, her daughter Jill put the final pat to her mother's outfit. "Mom, is your hand bag ready," Jill asked.
"Yes indeed it is. I have everything we need my dear."
Phillip came into her bedroom with a snarly look on his face. He looked at his wife and then took in his dyke daughter. "The car is waiting my dear. Jill, help your mother to the car in case she stumbles going down the stairs."
"I'll have you know smarty pants, I'm sober as a judge, and no pun intended," she retorted while wrapping her bare shoulders in a mink stole.
Outside, Fred, the chauffeur held the door open for her. He could tell she was fairly sober and gave thanks for that situation. Otherwise it would be one argument after another all the way to the Elks Club.
Phillip slid in next to his wife and Fred closed the door on the limo. Phillip had it timed that they would arrive about fifteen minutes late so a few classmates could see his opulence.
Indeed a smattering of classmates was making their way from the parking lot into the Elks Club when the sleek Mercedes limo made its way to the entrance. Phillip emerged like a politician with a big white toothy smile and a wave to anyone who was looking his way.
Willie White and Nellie Ponds were one couple who saw the pompous Phillip Street arrive. Willie said, "Lord, Nellie, this setting will have the making of a front page story I think."
Only one other classmate saw Phillip emerge from his car and Sam ducked down beside his car so as not to be seen. A few seconds later he stood up and went to the back of his car, opened the trunk, and put something in his pants pocket.
While Sam walked to the front door a taxi arrived. Sam was reminded of a classmate who always remained in the background. Now she looked lovely and he said, "Loren Ripple, it's so nice to see you. I'm Sam Polly."
Loren broke into a nice smile and replied, "Sam, I'm simply thrilled to see you and to be here tonight. Let's go in together and meet our old classmates." Sam, quickly looking her over, saw a nicely dressed middle aged woman that held her head high. A simple evening dress of violet contrasted well with her silver grey hair.
Not far behind, Lynn Aspen arrived in his old restored vintage T-Bird. With him was Randy Rhine who had found the old Thunder Bird in the late seventies. Ever since then Lynn and Randy remained close friends. Randy said, "There's no doubt that limo we passed belongs to dip shit Phillip Street."
"Now Randy," Lynn said, "let's not get excited just yet. The evening has just begun and let's use our brains tonight. Contrary to popular belief, a lawyer has few friends and tonight my former student and your former classmate is among a nest of vipers."
Chief Arrives
Sean Pastor pulled into the parking lot in his unmarked police car. His wife Wendy opened her own door and stepped out into the cool, clear first of April evening. She wore a light wrap over a conservative pale yellow evening dress. Sean took her by the arm and walked to the entrance to the dining room. As this was a small Elks Club, with a nine hole golf course, the dining room was closed to all except the reunion invitees. Most all classmates were members that lived locally. Occasionally you would see a few familiar classmates on a weekend eating dinner.
Sean and his wife were among the frequent customers on a Friday or Saturday night. The bartender for the evening was the regular guy that had been there for years, Gus Whitman.
Inside the door a coat and hat rack lined the long hallway into the Dining room. It was just past the hat rack where a table sat and the night time club manager was having the guests sign in. Name tags were handed out and the first of many smiles were seen as any who entered were greeted by beaming classmates.
Sean and wife stopped just inside the dining room and looked around. One of the organizers' greeted them and said, "Let me take you to your table. We have the locals mixed with those from out of town. However, we don't have many from out of town. So, we just mixed up the guests not considering any particular order."
"That's fine with us, Sharon."
"Thanks Chief. We worked hard and already some mumbling is occurring around Phillip Street. I'm sorry to say we put you at his table hoping your presence would keep him in line."
Pleasantries Gone
Two hours later, prime rib dinner over, music playing oldies but goodies, drink glasses sitting in front of most classmates and others dancing, Phillip Street was in fine form. Sitting at his table, as he made sure all knew it was his table, were Sean and his wife, Bill [Willie] White, Nellie Ponds and Loren Ripple. Veronica Street looked like she was in another world, but once in awhile, joined in on the conversation.
Pre-demise
"What did you say, Willie?" asked Phillip.
"I said," raising his voice over the Chubby Checker music, "Let's Twist Again," "I wonder how you could lower yourself to fraternize with folks so far below your social standards?"
"I came to make sure all of you could see what is possible in life. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find some better scotch than this crap there're serving." Phillip got up and walked to the bar. While he was gone, the table erupted in conversation that wasn't stilted. With Phillip gone, people relaxed and shared some past times.
Up at the bar, Phillip leaned in and ordered Gus to wait on him. Gus was in no hurry to accommodate Phillip Street. He knew what Phillip wanted and he'd purposely stashed twenty year old Johnny Walker scotch out of sight. All night he'd been serving Phillip Cutty Sark and enjoying seeing Phillip turn his nose up at the taste of the whisky.
Gus walked over polishing an already clean glass. "What can I do for you Mr. Street?"
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