Mrs Jones

by William Cain

  Elsie ceases resisting. The woman places her face next to Elsie’s, who risks opening her eyes, and whispers mockingly, “Like you said, let’s get to know each other.” She raises the bowl with both arms and screams “LET’S GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER!” and brings the heavy bowl down with as much strength as she has, directly into Elsie’s face. She repeats the words louder and louder, and does it again, over and over, bringing the bowl down, bringing it down, down and down, and, with each smash, the sound of slurpy blood and tissue accompanies each thud.

  Until the woman is spent. Then, heaving between each deep breath, she slides off.

  Elsie is unrecognizable, and the visitor finds herself drenched in sweat and splatters of blood and brain matter. She drops the bowl she was using, heads for the bathroom off the living room, and cleans up a little. She methodically turns her messy clothes inside out. She looks at her hands; she still has her gloves on.

  Leaving the house, the visitor passes Elsie’s lifeless body, and she sticks her tongue out at it. In the foyer she puts Elsie’s swing coat on in order to give her more cover and finds a hat, gloves, and sunglasses in the antique foyer table. She puts them on. Outside, she turns to look into the house once more at her handiwork, then slowly closes the door. She begins to walk up the drive.

  On the street now, the visitor sees a woman in athletic gear walking on the other side of the road coming from the opposite direction. They wave and smile at each other, then pass by. The visitor briefly turns around and notices the woman has paused at the top of Jones’s driveway, looking at something in her hand, most likely her phone.

  The visitor continues on, comically thinking, “Busy place.”

  The next thing that pops into her head is, “I’m hungry.”

  Chapter 2 Jones

  July 19th

  I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens. Woody Allen

  Jones, lying next to Jennifer, slowly wakes up and thinks back to last evening. Smiling, he quietly leaves the sheets and stands up in his suite. He reaches for his robe, puts it on, and walks to the bathroom to relieve himself. Entering the bedroom again, he glances at the clock and sees he’s early, then looks at Jennifer lying in bed. He thinks about joining her and starts for the sheets when there’s a knock at the door.

  Jennifer wakes up and looks at Biggie, and gives him that look. Biggie opens the door and finds breakfast is waiting. It’s brought in and placed on the small table near the window overlooking the grounds of the Glencoe mansion, and two seats are placed there.

  “Curtains, sir?” the butler says.

  Biggie looks at Jennifer knowingly and turns back to the butler, “Yes.”

  After the door is closed, he reaches over to Jennifer and, kissing her, slowly pulls back the sheets, “I never get tired of looking at you.” Her eyes are glistening with tears of love for this powerful man. He then joins her.

  ◆◆◆

  Later, when they’re eating their breakfast, he tells her, “I don’t want to leave you, but I promise I’ll come back soon.” He pauses, then adds, “I want you to know that if you have or want to have a boyfriend, I’m ok with it. I feel bad about what you said, that you’re lonely.”

  She looks at him and, tilting her head, replies, “I know people think you’re a bad, tough guy. They don’t know you like I do. I’m lucky. I love you, Gennarro.”

  “And I love you, and you’re right, I have a soft spot…but don’t tell anyone.” They both laugh loudly.

  After breakfast, they share a shower, helping each other reach spots that are a little hard to get to. Then they dress, and it’s not soon afterwards when Gangi rings the suite. When Biggie answers, he tells him he’ll be right down. He kisses Jennifer goodbye. She knows the chauffeur will be waiting for her at noon, and he’ll whisk her back to Chicago to her apartment. Before that, she’ll have time to walk the grounds. The staff here knows who she is, and she’s treated with the respect due her. Frankly, she kind of likes it.

  Biggie leaves, waving goodbye, and then skips down the staircase. At the bottom, Gangi is waiting, and they walk out together to the stretch that’s waiting in the drive. On their way to the small private airstrip located between Glencoe and Chicago, Gangi strikes up a short conversation.

  “Ken, I have to give you some disturbing news,” he starts. “Riggoti is back in the picture. He wants more of the business in Miami, and he’s willing to pay the Family for it and not make a stink about it,” meaning he won’t try to force the issue, and he’s willing to pay a fair price.

  Ken reflects on this, and reflects on Riggoti in general, and says, “That little fuck, I wish he would just die already.” He remembers how Riggoti reacted when he found out Biggie was screwing his daughter. That’s why Riggoti didn’t receive any love, any more territory, from that point on. As a member of the Family, Biggie wishes he would just go away. But here he is.

  Ken replies, “This is for Vincent to decide. But my counsel is to make nice with Riggoti. Give him half of what he wants, for a fair price. Give him the business that’s not that profitable or distasteful. He’ll get the rest later. But first, make him wait.”

  The intercom buzzes with a satellite call. It’s Skip O’Hare, and Gangi answers it. “Skip, what can we do for you?” He already knows what this conversation is going to be about.

  O’Hare pointedly tells him in his deep Irish brogue, “It’s done. And nobody here is too happy about it. Some of the boys are more than pissed at Biggie…we heard it was his idea.”

  “You’re welcome, Skip. Listen, it’s over, let it go. It was either that or your entire clan. Do you understand? I’ll tell Gennarro you are in debt to him for his sage advice. Goodbye.” He hangs up.

  Gangi turns to Ken, “I’ll pass on to Vincent what you said. Back to Riggoti… There’s one more thing. He’s been talking to Jennifer. Nobody knows about what. We just know it’s happening. Maybe he wants to repay a favor to you.”

  Ken looks at Gangi in disbelief with his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, this look disappears as he remembers this morning with her and realizes the truth. He tells Gangi, “He has zero chance. Don’t worry about it. Fuggheddaboutit.” They share a good laugh together over that stupid Italian euphemism.

  ◆◆◆

  Later that morning, they fly in through the Smoky Mountains and land in Asheville. Ken never tires of looking over the mountains and the rolling hills, with low lying clouds settled around the peaks. It’s summertime, and the area is crawling with hikers. This is his home, and he loves it. The Blue Ridge Parkway ends here, the southern end of it. The only time he’d seen a bear in the wild was during a drive on the Parkway. It skirted across the road in the distance, timid creatures that they are. The mountain lakes are beautiful, too. And deep. Lake Lure with its granite cliffs is over one hundred feet deep in some spots,and he can’t help thinking that lake must be a great place to hide a body. He shakes his head at his evil thoughts, smiles, and sighs. Old habits die hard.

  After dropping off Gangi in Saluda, he heads to Heritage Hills, where he passes through the gates, waving to the security guard.

  At home, he begins to enter the security code on the front door and sees the alarm is not on. He really doesn’t think this to be odd, but as he walks through the entryway, he feels a slight breeze. He calls out to Elsie, and, when he hears no answer, he takes a right and walks down the long hallway to the master bedroom, where he unpacks. He calls his wife’s mobile to tell her he’s home and to find out what she’s doing. She knew he was arriving early. Maybe she’s twisted that he stayed another day.

  His call goes to voicemail, and he decides to freshen up from the trip and make a sandwich. After washing his face and hands, he leaves the bedroom and walks toward the kitchen. As he passes the living room, he sees the reason for the breeze he felt earlier. The sliding doors off the living room are open. With an air of annoyance, he turns to close them and stops short when he sees a large black crow fly off through the open door
s to the outside, whapping its wings. Looking down, he sees a body lying on the floor, with drying blood everywhere around it. Realization sets in immediately that this is his wife, and, as his eyes dart over her, he sees hundreds of large horse flies swarming near her face. With a sudden sense of urgency, he kneels next to her, and, as the flies scatter, he takes in the horrible reality that is Elsie. Her face is a pulpy mess, and it’s caved in. Around her are bits of brain and bone mixed with blood, and he fights back the revulsion and regurgitation building up in his throat.

  He frantically looks around the room to see if anyone else is there and then realizes the doors are shattered along with the coffee table. There are shards of glass all over Elsie. He can’t even scream out as he’s filled with anguish and disgust. He lurches toward the kitchen and throws up in the sink, finds his voice, and begins to scream as his primal anger takes center stage. Running for the front door, he finds himself in the drive and then the street. He’s running and screaming, screaming and running. Soon, a security guard coming in the opposite direction reaches him, and Jones points toward the house, out of breath, and collapses in the guard’s arms.

  The guard reaches for his two-way and pages the central station. When they pick up, the guard says two words.

  “Ken Jones.”

  Chapter 3 Heritage Hills

  July 19th

  A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic. Stalin

  Inside the surveillance home in Heritage Hills, an agent barks out, “David! Something is happening! Monitor two!”

  A group quickly develops around the video stream from camera two. Juvieux stares at the black and white, watching Jones stumble after he’s thrown open the door. Jones bends over and pukes onto the driveway, then runs toward the street, screaming, passing the camera and out of range.

  “What do you make of that? The guy just got home. What could happen in the span of four minutes?” The agents just look at each other quizzically.

  “Get 100 Court on the line,” Juvieux orders.

  Quickly, the stationhouse picks up. It’s transferred, and Detective Henson answers, “Hi David, what’s up?”

  “There’s something going on at Ken Jones’s home. He just ran out of there like he had his head cut off, screaming and arms flapping. We lost him after he ran past our cameras and into the street,” Juvieux answers. “We’re going to send a tail out now.”

  Juvieux then motions to two agents, and they leave the surveillance operation to find and follow Jones.

  “We were just now going to reach out and tell you we’re back from Chicago, and we saw that. I’m telling you, we returned, and in four minutes after Jones walked into his house, this developed.”

  Henson briefly thinks this over and then tells Juvieux, “I’ll reach out right now and see what’s happening.” She hardly finishes saying this when the Desk Sergeant yells out, “Heritage Hills Clubhouse has called through, they’re on line six. The club manager sounds very worked up.”

  Henson’s brow ruffles, and she tells Juvieux that the clubhouse in Heritage Hills has just called them and to remain on hold. She then picks up line six, “Detective Henson, Asheville PD.”

  “Detective, this is Barry Lyons in Heritage Hills. We have a problem here.”

  Listening closely, Henson hears, “Ken Jones tells us his wife Elsie has been murdered.”

  “Do not enter the home.” She’s all business. Henson then directs, “Return there, guard the premises, and stay there until we arrive. Give us forty-five minutes.”

  Henson then shouts out to the room in general, “Find Captain Leary, now!” and the crowd stiffens and moves into action at the same time. They’ve seen this side of her before.

  She picks up the line with Juvieux on it and tells him slowly so he’ll understand, “Ken Jones discovered his wife’s dead body. He believes she has been murdered.”

  Agent Juvieux is speechless, so Henson asks, “Did you hear me?”

  He replies as if in a stupor, staring stupidly into space, “Yeah, I did.”

  “I’m headed there now. I’ll call you when I know more,” she adds, and then hangs up.

  Leaving Juvieux to continue staring, the phone in his right hand, his mouth slightly open, frozen in time.

  ◆◆◆

  Inside the clubhouse, Jones is holding a cup of coffee. His hands are shaking so badly, most of the contents end up on the floor. He’s crying, probably the first time since he was a child.

  The club manager hangs up and tells him, “I just got off the phone with Asheville Police. They’ll be here soon.” He looks at the cup Jones is holding and adds, stooping over and placing a hand on Jones’s shoulder, “I’ll get you something a little stronger. You’ll be ok for a minute?”

  Jones nods, and the manager leaves the room. Before he returns, Jones begins to settle down and regain his composure…and with it, he regains his anger. He begins thinking, and what he thinks is very unpleasant. He’s beginning to focus on revenge. Family is worth dying for, and those responsible must pay. He’s the most powerful man alive, with an army of ruthless killers under his command.

  Inwardly, he reflects. He was probably screwing Jennifer at the moment Elsie was being killed. It is so brutal, he can’t get the scene out of his mind. Every effort to think and focus on what needs to be done is at once replaced with images of Elsie, lying there with flies eating her face. What was once her face. And the crow he saw fly away. How cruel was the killer? Who does things like that? His anger is at its utmost. He wants to kill.

  ◆◆◆

  His immediate thoughts go to when he last saw Elsie, before he left for Chicago, and the evening they shared.

  After his golf match, he had changed shoes in the clubhouse, walked through the doors to where his private golf cart was waiting, and drove home, where Elsie was cooking red sauce with meatballs and sausages and preparing the pasta.

  He entered the side door after putting his cart in the garage and stepped into the kitchen. Fondly, and with an unreserved nature that a husband has with his wife, Ken kissed her on the back of her neck briefly. “Hi. Guess who?”

  She smiled, “Hey, bugger. Forget something?” She looked down at his feet.

  He patted her bottom and returned to the garage entrance to take his shoes off, as instructed. After putting his house slippers on, he headed back to the kitchen.

  “Had a great round today,” he told her. He was looking at his wife of fifty-one years, thinking, “Not too many beautiful, smart redheads would have tolerated me, but this one did. You’re a lucky man.” And, she’s still got it. She’s seventy-six now and shapely, with soft skin and a beauty queen face. She still pushes his buttons and gets his full attention when she wants it.

  Stirring the peppers into the pan and smiling, she said, “That’s great, Ken!” then added, “Who’d you play with?”

  “Mitch, and two other guys. One of them was the Chief Operating Officer of Emblem Health. The other guy was a cabinet member in the Clinton presidency. I forget what,” he told her, then chuckled and said, “I already forgot their names. I’m so bad.”

  Elsie stared at him for a moment. “Really? I think you better tighten up that habit. You’re going to run into them again.” Then she gave him her blue ribbon smile and asked, “Gen, you happy with our decision to move here?”

  “Sure I am. We’ll spend summers here and winters in Miami, and no more business.”

  To this, she turned and told him, “I’m happy, too. And no more business; agreed. Dinner is served.”

  They ate on the screened-in deck, and, as dusk turned to night, the overheads came on. Then they watched TV and went to bed.

  With the lights out and windows open, they could hear the wind lightly swaying the pine trees back and forth. Crickets and tree frogs played a symphony that rose and fell. The moon was out, with just enough light to make out their shapes under the blanket and to see the outline of their faces. The air was cool that evening, he remembers, and a sli
ght breeze made it into the bedroom.

  Jones, closely facing Elsie on his side, whispered, “Why’d you ask me if I liked it here?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t move here for me,” she replied.

  “Well, honestly, I don’t like it here…I love it. We have a home in Miami. And one in Wyoming I use for hunting elk with my buddies, and we go trail riding together,” Ken remembered saying.

  “Didn’t you want a bigger place, a mansion, servants? Private security?” she asked, digging a little deeper.

  “I don’t need to take care of any more than I already have. Having too many things is a chore. And I don’t need men hanging around protecting us. No one will ever touch us. If they try, they know what they’ll get in return.”

  She turned to face him and said, amusingly, “Then you still have your special powers?”

  In mock defense, he told her, “Honey, I’m superman. I have my ‘pension.’ With that comes a lot of benefits. One of them is the best protection. My men know how to solve problems. We look after the people who’ve served. They know that.”

  Putting her hand on his waist, she smiled and said, “So, you’re happy here?”

  He stated, “I am. We are.”

  He can still feel her hand sliding down his waist. He had reached over and begun to unbutton her top, slowly, kissing her softly.

  Quietly, he spoke, “Sono dipendente dei tuoi baci. Ti amo.”

  “And I, you,” she told him, her chest rising.

  To which he placed his mouth on hers, passionately, and gently removed her bottoms.

  ◆◆◆

  Finding himself now in the clubhouse of Heritage Hills, he recalls that evening just two days earlier and remembers that after they made love, he remained lying in the dark, just smiling, content.