The Park Murders (Kindle Books Mystery and Suspense Crime Thrillers Series Book 1)

by Tad S. Torm

  The plan to murder her almost succeeded in killing Caro. And this happened to be the second attempt on her life.

  “You’ve told us about a first attempt. When did it occur?”

  “About two weeks ago,” And you know? Maybe it was nothing.”

  “How long can we keep it? You realize one can become crazy following this program. A week, two weeks?”

  “Until somebody shows up. Don’t worry! Somebody will eventually show up.”

  Chapter 14: Stephanie

  Stephanie was finally alone, with mama and papa.

  Quiet at last.

  She was sitting in the drawing room, with a book on her knees. She always came here when she wanted to find peace. There were so many interesting things in the drawing room, books and drawings and exquisite statuettes, some of them back from the fifteenth century. A wrought iron centaur by Benvenuto Cellini sat in the middle of the room.

  All quiet now.

  The torment in her head was slowly subsiding.

  She remembered Marie, Marie had been the worst. She will move now away from the house as the twins had done it a while ago, so she could be forever with mama and papa.

  She will not see Marie ever again.

  The twins had given her a world of trouble, it’s true, but they were fickle and forgetful, they would come and torment her, but they soon lost interest.

  They used to play with her like you play with a toy. And she was so little, so small that the illusion worked.

  Once they put her on top of a chest of drawers and asked her if she could fly, or else she could take a parachute down instead. They put a big scarf belonging to mom on her head and let her drop down on the floor.

  She had broken a leg.

  The three of them had ceaselessly mocked her and demeaned her; they had tortured her every day of her life.

  And it never ceased.

  Now the twins were never going to give her any more trouble ever again.

  Marie was harder to get out of the mind, but she will fade away too.

  The nice gentleman with the kind voice, from papa’s secret telephone list, had assured her that if this man could not help her, then nobody could.

  This time, they were sending one of the best in the world, with achievements running the gamut of seven continents. He had worked for presidents and kings, the soft, calming voice had assured her.

  When everything will be said and done, she will get a final call. She was still waiting for it. Number 378 was her claim number. She had to remember it and then forget it.

  She had made a solemn vow to forget it together with Marie and her name.

  The mention of the secret number would signify the completion of the business. Stephanie had waited and waited near the phone to hear a ring and the number, but so far, nobody had called.

  She thought about her future, this was to be the crowning achievement of her life.

  It could not fail.

  After all, she had been promised the best man in the business.

  She took a few steps around the room; her head was giving her trouble again. She stopped at the window and gazed at one of the most beautiful gardens in the world.

  She turned back. The mail was in. She took a look at the inbox on top of the secretary. She saw a card from Marie, inviting them to Metroville to take part in some type of stupid running competition in River Park.

  This was the kind of asinine idiocies that Marie was famous for.

  Her headache lifted and she could think clearly if only for a second.

  She remembered the card; the thought was grating her mind. This meant that Marie was still alive; however, she thought about the opportunities the running competition was giving her.

  She could take advantage of this invitation.

  She stopped bemused in mid stride. And then the thought came clearly into her head.

  When you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.

  And the plan started to take form in her head. That she’d have to go herself to see her sister. In Metroville.

  Dragging the van der Brooks away from their estates was not an easy task, but she’ll find a way.

  She wasn’t the youngest member of the family for nothing. Mama and papa could not refuse her anything.

  Three days after the arrival of Marie’s greeting card, the van der Brooks were in Metroville and had taken residence at the Excelsior.

  Lenny, her mother, had ordered bourbon and was now flipping nervously through the pages of a glossy fashion magazine. Fritz, the patriarch of the family, toyed for a while with the television set, to finally settle on a scotch on the rocks.

  Stephanie who was having hot chocolate was the first to break the silence.

  “Bye daddy, bye ma,” Stephanie said. “It’s kind of late. I’m bushed. I think I’m going to bed.”

  They had just talked about visiting Marie early the following day. It was after eleven. They had decided it was too late to bother her now. She must be already asleep.

  Marie didn’t have any inkling of the nice surprise her family, the van der Brooks, where preparing for her.

  At the insistence of Stephanie, they had come here incognito.

  “Bye baby,” Lenny said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She heard the door closing.

  “Poor girl, she seems so much better now,” she told her husband after seeing her leave.

  “Let’s see how long it will last,” said Fritz who was already in a lousy mood. He hated it every time he had to leave home.

  “We should have kept her in the sanatorium.”

  “Don’t talk this way,” Fritz. “How can you say such a thing? All the doctors said she was harmless.”

  “Not all of them,” Fritz grumbled. “It’s true, she seems harmless enough, but I swear, sometimes those crazy looks she’s throwing around give me the willies.”

  “OK, I had enough of this discussion. I’m turning in,” Lenny said.

  Stephanie, her ear glued to the door, had heard most of the conversation, but she didn’t blame her father.

  “I’ll make it right, pops. You’ll see, tonight everything will be set right,” she whispered softly.

  She checked her watch. By now, it was almost twelve o’clock. A quarter to twelve, actually. Precision was very important in what she was about to do.

  She took the stairs up to the eleventh floor, and then called the service elevator to the basement. On the way out, she stuck a small wedge on the threshold to make sure the back door didn’t lock.

  Then she stepped out into the inner courtyard, which smelled of cheap drink and rotten molasses.

  She was dressed all in black: black shirt and sports pants, black tennis shoes even. She had tied a black scarf around her head and she was wearing night glasses.

  Stephanie had visited Marie a few years ago in Metroville, so she was familiar with the directions.

  In addition to that, she had studied the map thoroughly in the limo that had driven them to Metroville and again before leaving the hotel.

  The Excelsior was located at twelve blocks from Marie’s brownstone on Carlita Court. It will take Stephanie about twenty minutes to get there.

  Not too many people on the road at this hour. She wanted to do this quickly. She walked fast and with purpose, with long footsteps.

  As she was passing by the entrance of the River Park, a sleepy bum asked her for a cigarette, but she didn’t pay any attention.

  “Miss, Miss, You lost your headscarf,” the derelict yelled from behind after she’d passed him.

  She checked it automatically to see if she still had it on and he laughed.

  “Hey babe, how about a walk in the park? There is a full moon tonight. Did you know? It’s so romantic,” he cackled.

  She looked back. He was lost in the distance. She could barely see him.

  Why was she so afraid?

  Carlita Court finally came into view. She checked her sister’s building carefully; there were no lights at
the windows.

  Stephanie still had her copy keys from her last visit, a couple years back.

  She tried the entrance key first. It worked. The well-oiled lock did not make any sound.

  She took on the stairs to the first floor, but the steps creaked even if faintly. She didn’t like that.

  She stopped and heard her own breath in her ears; she could hear her heart beating erratically.

  She was at the head of the stairs. She looked at her watch.

  It was a quarter to one.

  She was doing good time.

  She checked the gun and, brought the scarf down to hide most of her face.

  This time, things will be different, she assured herself.

  If you want something done you have to do it yourself.

  The plan was simple and simple plans always worked.

  She was quiet on the stairs. The place was pitch black. She knew about Marie’s tenants from the last incident and she was not going to make the same mistake twice.

  But it was the night goggles that rendered her unbeatable. She would quietly open the door to Marie’s room and not waste any time. She would plug her as soon as the door opened.

  She walks quietly to her door.

  She stops, the gun ready in her hand.

  Chapter 15: Bodyguard

  Seven days had passed since the bodyguard had come to live with her and Marie was feeling at the end of her rope.

  Slowly, she thought, she was going crazy. Even death, final as it was purported to be, had seemed to be losing its sheen in comparison with her non-stop mega boring cohabitation with Caro’s idiot boyfriend.

  She had tried to engage him in conversation, but he didn’t seem interested in shoes, knew nothing about hair stylists and was completed ignorant of manicurists.

  A simple knock on the door at the end of the week, in the middle of the day, was about to change all that.

  She was incommunicado, with nothing to do, no TV, no books, no gardening, no computer browsing and no smartphone. The only thing she could look at in the apartment, and what a dreary sight that was, was Mark.

  Unfortunately, Mark was the type of person who could sit still on a chair for ten hours without moving a muscle and without showing any signs of boredom.

  At first, Marie had been fascinated by the bodyguard’s quirks, but by now, she was thoroughly disgusted.

  Soon she was about to be intrigued again by the metamorphosis that a simple knock on the door was about to bring about.

  She was looking at Mark as she did every day as if she would look at an inanimate object, a still life. He’d been sitting in the same armchair for three hours without a blink. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought him dead.

  Then there came the knock at the door, and Marie’s world changed forever.

  As soon as he heard the sound, Mark’s shoulders suddenly shot up straight, his vacuous eyes turned into two blinding lasers focusing on the door, his hands straightened up like two sharp knives and became instruments of instant death, ready to strike and slash.

  His muscled hand slid seamlessly toward his belt, from which he extricated a huge black gun, it was the military issue Walther Mark had picked up from Roger a few days ago.

  Marie looked in fascination as Mark lifted up the gun, balanced it softly on the palm of his hand, and then raised it up gingerly in his fingers, with a move so devilishly elegant and murderous at the same time that she couldn’t avoid a shiver of pleasure.

  He stood up, moved away from the chair, and slid toward the door with the poise of a big cat, deftly avoiding the dangerous spots in the room that could be hit by a bullet shot through the door, without making the slightest noise.

  He stopped at the side of the wall close to the door, to avoid any possible trap, looking tall and ferocious, like a cobra ready to pounce, and then asked in a very suave voice:

  “Who is there?”

  “SPS, sir. Package for Ms. van der Brook.”

  “Ms. van der Brook?”

  “That’s me,” Marie whispered.

  “Ok. Leave it at the door,” Mark said.

  “We need a signature.”

  Mark glanced through the peephole and replaced the gun back under his belt.

  He opened the door only halfway.

  “Mr. van der Brook?”

  “Yes, give me the thingy and I’ll sign it.”

  “Here it is, Mr. Marie van der Brook?”

  “We are French, Mark explained. You never can tell by the first name.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “What’s inside?”

  “I have no idea, sir. It looks like shoes.”

  “Shoes?”

  “Shoes.”

  “They’re my shoes,” Marie said after the SPS guy had left and Mark had closed the door. “I ordered them a week ago.”

  By now, Marie was totally smitten. She had personally experienced the incredible and uncanny transformation of a nondescript, cranky dullard into a formidable and very sexy master of war.

  How could she have been so blind? How could she have wasted a whole week?

  It was incredible.

  Now that she had her shoes, her plan was ready.

  The rest of the day went rather well.

  The change in Marie had led to a much cozier and more relaxed atmosphere. From snotty and prim, the girl had unexpectedly turned into good-natured, wholesome and sincere.

  Instead of glowering silently at each other, the two decided to play some games to pass the time. They started with a word game and nobody complained too much if the Ps and Qs were not really quite in order. They tried monopoly, but it soon became apparent that simple games wouldn’t do.

  “I would like to take a walk,” Marie whispered dreamily.

  It was about three o’clock in the afternoon.

  Mark thought a bit about it. The proposal was fraught with dangers, but they had been cooped inside for seven days now, and his head was ready to explode.

  “Can you change enough so you cannot be readily recognized?” Marked asked.

  “Change how?”

  “Wear dark hair.”

  “I have a wig.”

  “Thick glasses.”

  “No problem, I’m short sighted.”

  “Do you know how to make a ponytail?”

  “As easily said as done. Anything else, sir?”

  They needed a breather.

  So they descended into the old park, right around the corner. Walking slowly. Mark kept checking his surroundings. They fed the squirrels and the ducks and ran away from two mad geese who were threatening to bite them, so blue-eyed and pretty they should have instead shot a movie in Hollywood.

  Marie took Mark by the arm. Her touch felt really good, so he didn’t complain too much.

  “Can I run?” Marie said. “I’d like to run a bit.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “How about the river? Let’s go take a walk by the river!”

  “The river. The river is a little too dangerous, don’t you think?”

  “Let’s go. It’s not dangerous. What are you talking about? Come on Mark! I want to go.”

  They did go to the river bend. Mark went to the parapet and gaped into the precipice.

  “What a crazy place,” he said in a little voice that sounded scared.

  Lucky for him, Marie could not accept that Mark could be scared by anything.

  “Does the place bring up bad memories?”

  “No. What memories? It just that it’s … just that it’s a spooky place. Let’s go back, Marie! It was fun. Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow.”

  As they were strolling out of the park getting close to home, Mark felt in his back a peering regard like a hot iron.

  Somebody must by watching, he thought.

  However, he didn’t turn his head. He didn’t want to worry Marie.

  They got back home at exactly six o’clock.

  They were on Caro time now. So they we
nt back to her place upstairs, as they had been doing every day since Mark had become Marie’s bodyguard.

  “This thing is taking more time than I expected,” Caro took Mark aside and whispered in his ear as soon as they got in.

  “I don’t think it’s going to keep much longer. I felt somebody was roaming around, on the lookout.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Just an instinct, but I don’t think it will be long now.”

  “Should we leave the entrance door open?” Caro asked.

  “No. We don’t want the assassin to suspect foul play. It’s bad enough he saw me.”

  “He saw you?”

  “Yes, as we were coming out of the park. I believe somebody was watching.”

  “Then the best thing to do is to let him see you walk out. Then you can return using the back door, but make sure he doesn’t see you when you come back.”

  “How about Marie?”

  “I’ll watch her until you return.”

  “Where are you going?” Marie asked, suddenly concerned.

  “I’ll be gone only a few minutes. You’ll be safe with Caro in the interim.”

  A smidgen of freedom.

  This thing was taking its toll. Walking aimlessly through the streets at dusk felt marvelous. It was uncanny how much the simplest things in life become important, once you can’t do them any longer.

  Outside it was getting chilly. He squeezed his hands in the pockets of his coat and ambled away without a care in the world. He wanted to look back, but thought it was better to remain a simple passerby. He didn’t want to attract any attention.

  He took about twenty-five minutes to go round to the Sideways Café to banter with his favorite baristas.

  When he returned the girls were waiting for him.

  Caro had prepared the cappuccinos.

  By then it was seven o’clock.

  “They watched a DVD and then it was already time to go back with Marie.”

  Boy, what a bore it was to act as a bodyguard.

  For him what was even more irksome was that life had become too serious all of a sudden. Keeping Marie alive was now a responsibility and nothing did Mark hate more than responsibilities.”