

Splitting Nines

A revenge mystery with twists.

Splitting Nines

Published by Ron Gannon

Copyright © 2014 by Ron Gannon

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

### PROLOGUE

The "Blizzard of '78" brought more than a staggering abundance of snow to Rhode Island. As temperatures rose lethal hazards ensued: falling icicles. The weight of a long chunk of ice whistling downward from a skyscraper, like a spear, can kill you.

Tall buildings lined both sides of Weybosset Street. Water dripped from large icicles that hung from roofs on the north side. An elderly woman exited the Outlet Department Store. A drop landed on her head. She gawked upward. More water splashed on her forehead. She stepped away from the doorway, staring at the points of the projectiles a hundred feet away.

Established in 1891, the Outlet stocked furniture, house wares, clothing, cosmetics, books and other stuff. Inside a pink, heart-shaped jewelry box lay on a clearance table. Sandra Paine sauntered over and picked it up. A smile appeared on her beautiful face as Sandra turned the decorative cover toward her five-year-old treasure. "Isn't this pretty, Cookie?"

A girl with stunning azure blue eyes gazed at the conversation piece, nodding. "Uh-huh!"

Sandra flipped the lid open. The passionate instrumental music 'Somewhere My Love' played. With a delightful smile, Sandra slowly shut her eyes, getting pleasure out of listening to the film score. "Ahhhh! I adore that song."

"Zhivago," said Tom, standing by his daughter, "our first date, remember?"

"Of course, you wanted to see 'Thunderball'. Not much of a romantic, but you were so handsome," said Sandra, touching Tom's cheek, "like a young Sean Connery."

"And you...," Tom searched for a name, "...whatsherface, you know, blonde hair, green eyes, USO show in Nam, Bob Hope's friend..."

"Joey Heatherton...Jayne Mansfield?"

"No!" Tom stared down, shaking his head side-to-side. He lifted his eyes from the pink box to Sandra, captivated. "Diller, Phyllis Diller."

"The comedian not known for her beauty?" Sandra gave Tom a love tap on the arm. "Okay, you...Don Rickles wanna be, it's half off - buy it." She shoved the jewelry box in front of his face.

Tom took the heart shaped item, placing it against his chest. "My heart is yours, forever."

"Tell Flo we look like Phyllis Diller. She might hit you with her broom." Sandra made a shoo motion with her hands. "Go! We'll be waiting in the little girl's section."

Tom smiled, saluted and then headed toward the nearest cashier.

Holding Cookie's hands, Sandra bent forward and asked. "Wanna visit Auntie Flo?"

The little blonde took her eyes off her mom and peered downward, murmuring, "Okay!''

**Sandra and Tom** with Cookie between them headed for the exit. "You do have a fantastic looking sister." Tom winked at Sandra as he opened the large glass door. "After you, my awesomeness and you, my precious Cookie."

Sandra smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Paine." She headed out of the store followed by Cookie, stepped onto the sidewalk, took a few steps and stopped, waiting for Tom.

Tom caught up with Sandra as a huge pointed icicle struck her head. Tiny pieces of ice and blood spatter hit Tom's face and Cookie's head.

Cookie let out a loud scream.

Blood gushed out of the top of Sandra's head like a geyser as she crumpled to the sidewalk. The jewelry box bounced out of the bag after hitting the concrete. The lid popped open. 'Somewhere my Love' played.

Tom rushed over to his injured wife. Seeing the blood gushing from what was left of her head abate made him realized there was nothing he could do to help or comfort her. He knelt by her body feeling heartbroken.

"Mommy, mommy," Cookie cried out as she attempted to hug her mother.

Tom pulled her against his chest, hugging her while whispering, "Mommy has gone to Heaven. She's looking over us."

### A Shady Plan

**Dave and Jimmy were** playing chess by an oversized in ground pool when Cookie, swinging a large leather purse, arrived. Red and Lumpy swam around not noticing their classmate's appearance, at first.

Pleasantly surprised, 15-year-old Dave stood with a huge smile to greet the visitor coming toward him from the stairway leading down to a rocky beach area. He heard Bon Jovi singing, " _Words can't say what love can do. I'll be there for you,"_ as his dream girl approached. The music was loud. Too loud! He couldn't hear her friendly greeting. He reached for his portable radio located by his oversize chess pieces and turned the volume down.

Cookie had grown into a gorgeous young woman. At times her smile took Dave's breath away. Just the sight of her from any angle enchanted him. He, her number one admirer, lived under her spell from the moment she swaggered into their classroom. Dave would do anything for her, and Cookie knew it.

"Wow! That's a big chess set," exclaimed Cookie, pointing at the genuine ebony figures.

"They certainly are!" said Jimmy, staring at her chest.

Cookie ignored his comment, turning her attention to small gray building rested on the branches of a large oak tree that overlooked Narragansett Bay. A wide S-shaped staircase led to a small railed porch in front of a door and window. "I'm taking you up on your offer. Not too long ago you invited me over to see the view from your tree house."

**En route, Dave** noticed his three pals were following them. He wanted to be alone with Cookie, but he didn't say a word to his friends. They knew he had been infatuated with her since the fifth grade. Telling them to "stay put" or "go home" might lead to a disagreement, especially with big mouth, Jimmy. That might make his object of affection uncomfortable. He didn't want to take a chance of upsetting her no matter what.

**The ceiling and walls** were knotty pine, only one window facing the bay, and the furnishings amounted to a couple of narrow beds. Cookie stood by the window, looking out while stroking her long blonde hair. Then she glanced over to her number one fan standing by her side. "Ya have a terrific view, Dave."

"Thanks! My dad had it built for me years ago."

Cookie's hand tenderly touched Dave's arm. "Wanna escort me to one of your beds?"

"More than you can ever imagine," yelled out Jimmy, making room on the bunk he occupied by sliding a few feet to his left.

Dave shot Jimmy a menacing look.

Cookie, linking their arms together, led Dave to the seating area Jimmy had made available. They sat down opposite Red and Lumpy. Cookie placed her bag on the floor between her feet. She reached inside and yanked out a large bottle labeled Listerine mouthwash. She removed the cap and took a drink.

Jimmy turned his head with a disgusted expression. "Yuck!"

Cookie handed the bottle to Dave. "Have a sip."

Dave took the container and held it in front of his face, examining the yellowish liquid inside the clear glass. "What is it?"

"C C and Ginger. That's Canadian Club whiskey and ginger ale. I got it from my wicked step-mother's bar."

Dave took a swig. "Not bad." He passed the bottle back to her."

Jimmy narrowed his already beady little eyes and adjusted his Boston Red Sox cap. "Are you trying to seduce us, Miss Paine?"

"You wish," she said, pushing the bottle toward him.

Jimmy grabbed it and sang, " _I held my nose, I closed my eyes_. _I took a drink_." He gulped down a mouthful. " _Now I wanna kiss everyone in sight_." After glancing at Lumpy and Red in tee shirts and swim trunks, he shook his head. "Nah! That's not gonna happen. Cookie, do you want to see a nudist magazine?" he asked as he handed the bottle to Red.

"Come on, Jimmy, don't...." Dave's face turned red after Cookie interrupted him.

"Sure, I'll take a peek." Cookie showed Jimmy a half-smile.

Jimmy reached under the mattress, pulled out a periodical and delivered it to Cookie. She thumbed through it. "Swimming, tennis, volleyball. I'd like to go there."

"Really?" said Dave, flabbergasted. "You wouldn't be embarrassed?"

"Uncomfortable, maybe at first." She stood and extended her arms outward. "Don't I have a nice body?" She slowly turned around; proud of her fully developed figure.

Red and Lumpy nodded as Dave said, "You're a perfect ten."

"Maybe a nine," Cookie replied, sitting down. "I read you have to be an actress or a model to be a ten."

"That makes no sense," Jimmy said, leaning back slightly and grabbing the back of his head with both hands. "If ya wanna an honest rating, less clothing will help."

"Cute, but inappropriate," Cookie pondered for a moment, "unless youse do me a big favor." Wearing a short pink skirt, she moved her legs enough to reveal to Red her white panties.

Red focused on her underpants. "Go on! I'm aroused. Brief us."

"I want youse to get me a jewelry box, tonight, while my sleazy step-mom is at a bingo. Nobody will be in the house between nine and ten." Cookie pulled out a photo of the jewelry box and showed it to Jimmy. "It'll be in the first room at the top of the stairs. The outside door facing the bay won't be locked."

"B and E for jewelry," said Jimmy, shaking his head.

"No jewelry, just the box. It means a lot to me. It was my mom's. The witch is leaving my dad and she won't let me have it."

"Why us?" asked Jimmy, "'Cause people think Dave's father's a major crime boss?"

"No! Dave lives close. It's less than a five minute walk. I'll show ya my breasts if we make a deal."

"Ah, let's make a deal. Maybe, for a little more than seeing what's under blouse and bra," replied Jimmy, smiling. "And a down payment: stop your grinning and drop some linen."

"Top now, everything after ya get it. I'll let ya touch them, then, but nothing else!"

Jimmy nodded casually and gestured toward Cookie's chest. As Cookie began to unfasten her blouse he arched an eyebrow.

"I'll get it for you," said Dave, blushing. "Keep your blouse on."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, sending a silent message to Dave. Then he shook his head, annoyed. "All she's going to do is show a little skin. No harm in that."

Cookie disregarded Dave's offer. She took off her blouse and gently placed it across her legs. She reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She removed it.

Jimmy thought her breasts were perfect: identical in size. They reminded him of Jell-O the way they quivered when she moved. Jimmy smiled in admiration at such a remarkable sight. Only his friendship with Dave discouraged him from copping a feel.

Red and Lumpy grinned as they immensely enjoyed the view. After a fleeting glance, Dave hung his head in humiliation. He felt like hitting Jimmy. It was his fault.

Cookie snapped her bra after putting it back on. "Leave the jewelry box behind the bush by the stairs to the beach. Linda will get it for me. I'll be at my grandmother's house \- my alibi."

Still holding the bottle, Lumpy tried to hand it back to Cookie.

She showed him the palm of her hand. "Finish it tonight! A little liquid courage."

### Stakeout

**A large jellyfish quivered** on a rocky beach. Nearby a dead horseshoe crab covered in green seaweed lay surrounded by clam shells. Dave and Jimmy strolled by. Red and Lumpy, several yards behind, tossed rocks into the bay.

Jimmy pointed at a dead seagull lying between large rocks. "See the bullet hole? I bet Mario Mazzela whacked it for crapping on his Buick."

Mario Mazella worked for Dave's dad. Something Dave was ashamed of. So he abruptly changed the subject. "The Red Sox won last night. Just two and a half games back."

Jimmy adjusted his cap. "They're a come from behind team. They'll win the World Series this year."

"Jimmy the eternal optimist."

Red gaped at Lumpy and mouthed eternal optimist.

Lumpy made a facial shrug. "Beats me! Sounds like some kind of eye doctor."

Red scampered up to Jimmy, taunting him. "The Sox suck!"

"Looking for a bruising, harelip?" Jimmy shoved Red.

The mere mention of the congenital deformity on his upper lip bothered Red. Jimmy knew that. Angrily he pushed back as hard as he could. "I'm not afraid of you, Jew boy. That's for sure."

"You oughta be." Jimmy stared down at the much shorter boy.

Dave moved between them, touching Red's arm. "Calm down, Red." Then he glanced at everybody. "What about tonight?"

Red picked up a stone and tossed it into the air toward the bay, disregarding the question until he had time to cool off.

Lumpy yelled out. "If we get caught, my father will kill me."

"He won't kill you, Lumpy," replied Dave, watching the rock hit the water. "Good arm. You might be the next Dwight Evans, Red."

"You don't know my father." Lumpy moved next to Jimmy.

Jimmy smirked at him. "We know he leaves lumps on your head."

"I'll stand guard outside, but I'm not going in." Lumpy folded his muscular arms. "Dave, if you get caught, you'll have a police record. Then you can't be president."

Jimmy laughed. "Yeah, like somebody from Rhode Island has a chance. There it is, the gray house."

"I can't understand why she doesn't take it herself." Dave turned, facing the dwelling.

"She could be one of them... exhibitionists." Red glanced over the two story high building. "I'm in. I wanna see if she's a blonde all over."

"Watch yourself, Red. You're talking about the bush of Dave's true love," warned Lumpy, then mumbling, "I think we're all making a big mistake. Stealing an empty jewelry box? That makes no sense." He looked down, shaking his head.

"Sentimental reasons." Jimmy pointed. "I'll be performing there, tonight. I'll be playing a burglar. And the Oscar goes to Jimmy Timber. I want to thank the little people." He looked down at Red and grinned.

Sixty feet beyond a concrete stairway a door opened. A nude woman appeared in the doorway behind a screen door.

"Wow!" Check her out," exclaimed Jimmy. "She has more hair between her legs than I have all over me. I'd love to play hide the kielbasa in that hairy forest. "

"We better get out of here," warned Dave. "She's looking at us."

"Maybe she'll invite us in for milk and nooky." Jimmy couldn't take his eyes off the naked woman.

Dave casually turned and faced the bay. "Stop staring."

"You gotta be kiddin'. Two – well, actually four tits in one day. Let me enjoy God's gifts to man," said Jimmy, smiling broadly. "I think I'm in lust. I'll be thinking of her tonight at bedtime and for a long, long time."

The door slammed shut.

"Show's over," said Dave. "Let's go to the driving range and hit out a few balls. My treat."

"I prefer the trick in the doorway," said Jimmy. "Nine minutes with me and she'll be yelling bingo."

**Except for her midnight** black hair, Florence looked like her dead twin sister, Cookie's mother. Before soaking in her hot tub she liked to step outside, nude. She relished the cool air from the bay soothing her body. If the weird next door neighbor was outside, she would give him a thrill. The boys on the beach might tell their parents. That was the only thing preventing her from stepping outside to let them enjoy the show.

Florence strutted away from the door. "That crime boss's kid is surveying my house. What are you up to now, sweetheart?"

Cookie sat on a sofa, watching television. "Nothing!"

"Those boys are up to no good. I can tell by their faces."

"Maybe they heard about a nude exhibitionist, Aunt Florence."

"What about you? And that friend of yours?"

"We pull the shades down before we use your hot tub."

Florence moved across the living room to a side window and peered out. "Yep, Peeping Gene's there, as usual. I wave to him when I go on the porch. That embarrasses him, I'm sure. Doesn't The Peeper look like that momma's boy in 'Psycho'?"

"Nah! Anthony Perkins was handsome. More like that cop killer in 'The Onion Field'."

"Not with those peepers. Care to join me in the hot tub?"

"If we can stay, I will."

"You can but your father has to go. Screwing that gangster's wife jeopardizes both of us. That crazy killer is apt to do anything. With all the whores in town, he had to pick one that might get him killed."

Cookie crossed her arms, pouting. "You know Dad won't let me stay."

"Be sure to write, sweetheart." said Florence as she swaggered out of the room.

Cookie stuck out her tongue and then murmured, "Pervert!"

### The Usual Suspects

**It was a dark summer night**. A quarter-moon provided a little light on Florence's house. Lumpy and Red scurried down the stairs attached to the large patio deck.

The screen door swung open. Jimmy dashed out of the house and across the porch.

Moments later Dave stepped out, closed the doors and wiped the doorknob with his handkerchief. As he was about to hurry away from the doorway, he noticed the silhouette of a neighbor standing about fifty feet away on his porch.

The man stared at Dave as a white cat strutted across the rail in front of him. The cat

stopped and arched its back. The man stood still, staring. Dave nodded, turned and sauntered toward the bay.

The tide was out, the water's edge about twenty feet away from the cement walls. Jimmy ran down the cement stairs, onto the beach. He glanced to his left and right.

Red, ahead of Lumpy, turned off the beach and up another flight of stairs.

Lumpy looked behind and noticed Jimmy. He stopped, waiting for his friend.

Jimmy jogged up to him.

"What happened up there?" Lumpy tilted his head, looking behind Jimmy and then pointing, "There's Dave."

Dave stepped onto the beach and trotted toward them.

The boys heard a loud screeching sound of a car stopping suddenly followed by a loud thud. They sensed it involved Red.

**John Dolan, with his belt** and pants undone, rubbed his enormous belly as he sat on his recliner in front of his television. James Woods talked to James Garner on the screen. John pointed. "I went to Pilgrim High with that guy. What an asshole."

His wife was lying on a beat-up sofa. "I know, dear. You told me a thousand times already."

The front door opened. Lumpy entered and hobbled across the living room floor.

John noticed the limp. "What happened to ya leg?"

"I was running and twisted my ankle."

John glanced at his watch. "It's after ten. Where were ya?"

"At the movies."

"Wheredya get the money?"

"Dave paid."

With a finger John beckoned Lumpy. When he got within striking range, John slapped him hard across the face. "Home by ten don't mean after ten. Got that?"

Lumpy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And no more hanging around with that rich thug and his Jew buddy. A guy paying for another guy's movie ain't right. I won't have a homo sapien living in my house."

**The telephone was ringing** when Dave entered his parent's mansion. He rushed over and picked up the receiver. "Hello!...No, she's not home....Dad, we have to talk. It's serious."

**Winnie Disenzo stopped loving** her husband about the time she believed the rumor about her husband was true: he is a murderer. That reality made their relationship worse and almost unbearable. Ray would never agree to a divorce or a legal separation. That didn't matter too much. For years they had separate bedrooms and rarely saw each other. Most nights he didn't come home. She assumed he had numerous affairs. Eventually, she found herself a lover, Tom Paine.

"My wife wants a divorce," said Tom, placing a pillow between his back and bed board. "I'll be moving to Georgia after it's finalized."

"I'm going to miss your backrubs," Winnie said to her bedmate. "Why Georgia?"

"I was offered a job at the Kingsbay Naval Base. Leave Ray. Come with me to Georgia. Take Dave with you."

"I'd love to, but I have to think of Dave's future. Politics!" She rubbed Tom's face. "Did Florence have you sign a pre-nuptial?"

"Yes, but I don't need her money." Tom rubbed his fingers through Winnie's hair. He kissed her neck and shoulder. "I'm going to miss you more than my wife."

Winnie smiled, pulling Tom against her. "Why would you miss her at all? No sex! And she's not interested in you or anything you say?"

"Every time I look at her I see Sandra. I loved her so much. I still do. To me, Florence is Sandra. That's probably the reason I married her. She's a bitch. Always was."

"Tom, you're a very sick man and not just because you married your dead wife's twin sister. But you do know how to satisfy a neglected housewife. I'll give you that. We don't have much time. I have to be home before midnight."

Tom reached under the sheet. "Why, does this turn into a pumpkin?"

"Maybe."

"Then call me Peter Peter."

"Doesn't he live next door to you?"

"That's Peeping Gene, one of the nicknames Florence gave him."

Winnie turned on her back, staring at the ceiling. "Why the divorce? Is she suspicious about us?"

"I think so, but we've been arguing a lot about my daughter. Last week she hit her."

**Cookie sat on the sofa** watching Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd argue in a TV episode of "Moonlighting". Florence, nude, strolled from the stairway toward the kitchen.

Cookie noticed her. "Put some clothes on, you pervert."

Florence stopped, turned, and rushed over to Cookie. "How dare you to talk to me that way. This is my house." She smacked Cookie hard across her face.

Tom, reading "Carrie" by Stephen King, placed the book on an end table, got off his recliner and confronted his wife.

**Winnie stared at Tom**. "If someone hit my son, I would lose it. I'd go after her so fast."

"Oh, so you're a hothead."

"Not really, but if someone hurts my son, I won't turn the other cheek."

"Does Ray know about us?" asked Tom.

Taken aback, Winnie turned. "No, why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. I thought one of his goons was following me the other day. And something Florence said before wanting me out of her house."

Winnie got out of bed and headed for her clothes. "I better go home. There's no telling what that nutcase would do if he found out about us."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"I am! Get dressed!"

**In his library, Ray Disenzo sat** at a table across from his son. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, we won't talk to anyone except your lawyer. Dad, that postman saw us."

"I'll take care of him. Just do as you're told. What time did your mother go out?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, first thing tomorrow morning my lawyer will be here. Again, you talk to no one but him. If the police try to question you, you tell them to contact me or him." Distracted he snapped his head toward the sound of a door closing. "Our trollop of the night is home."

**Detective Shortman stood** over seven-feet tall with shoulders as wide as a standard doorway. He kneeled and examined a jewelry box on the floor: no jewelry inside or around the box. After noticing cat's fur, he rubbed a gloved finger along the floor and inspected several filaments of animal pelt stuck to the latex. "Do they own a cat?"

A uniformed policeman stood in the doorway, but the one behind him answered. "Don't think so. The neighbor has quite a few. They were everywhere when we were getting his statement."

Shortman glanced at his wristwatch and pondered for a few seconds. He decided it would be more fitting to interview the neighbor in the morning. He stood up and walked over to Florence's body, face up on her king size bed. There were multiple stab wounds but little blood. "Most husbands would pull a sheet over their naked wife's body before calling the police. I know I would."

Shortman bent over and examined her face, up-close. The tell-all signs were quite clear to him. "Smothered to death, then stabbed nine times to make it look like that murder in Buttonwoods."

**When Gene Evans was** eighteen, his mother passed away. He inherited her house and all her cats. After a few years they multiplied so much that he started to drown all newborns. He'd place them in a pillow case and submerge them under water for several minutes. Their bodies were buried in shallow graves under his porch. Gene always felt extremely depressed afterwards. He loved his cats. They were the only friends he had. He hated young people. While growing up they made fun of the way he looked and talked. Even at twenty-two his flat top crew cut, pockmarked face, slightly bulging-eyes, and feminine voice still made him an easy target for ridicule.

The knocks on the door were loud. They startled Gene and several of his cats. After he opened the door he looked up in amazement at the well dressed giant holding a police badge.

"I told them cops everything last night," Gene said in a high-pitched voice.

"Do you mind if I come in? I have just a few questions."

"Do I have a choice?" Gene stepped aside to allow the huge man to enter.

It wasn't long before Shortman was brushing cat fur off his blue blazer. Out of curiosity a large number of cats had entered the filthy kitchen to observe the mammoth visitor. They eyed him from every direction. But it was the foul odor of animal feces and urine that bothered Shortman more than the flying fur.

"Were you in Mrs. Paine's bedroom last night?"

"Am I a suspect or something?"

"Just answer the question, please."

Gene grinned, showing his bright yellow teeth. "No! Do you think we were having an affair or something?"

"I'm trying to account for cat fur in her bedroom and on her stairway."

Gene picked up a yellow cat and held it in front of his face. "Were you trespassing, Honey?" He turned away from the cat and looked up at Shortman. "I have no idea. If you arrest them punks, you betta protect me. One of them kids has mob connections."

"Who?"

"David Disenzo. You know his father is Raymond Disenzo," he said looking down at his cat purring loudly as he stroked its soft yellow fur. Then with a strange inquisitive look on his face he stared at Shortman and asked, "Didn't them cops tell you anything?"

"Plenty! Nothing about how so much cat fur ended up in Mrs. Paine's bedroom."

### Unfriendly Persuasion

**Ray Disenzo's eyes were** so dark they appeared black at times. He stroked a side of his thick black wavy hair. "Ya should've gotten to that fag before that monstrosity did."

Mario Mazella, stood in front of Disenzo's mahogany desk. The large man looked like he hadn't shaved his head in a couple of day. He lit up a Pall Mall cigarette. "I can make him drop out of sight, permanently. Just say the word."

"Too risky!" Ray contemplated while staring at a photo of Winnie and Dave on his desk. "We can use him. Persuade him to modify his story. And keep an eye on Dave."

**Mario Mazella pounded on** the side door. It partially opened. Gene's pockmarked face appeared through a one foot gap. Mario pushed the door wide open, entered and slammed the door shut. With a hand across Evans' mouth and one behind his head he lifted the slight man and carried him into the living room. He tossed his chump onto the sofa.

Petrified, Gene didn't know what to do. He just stared up at the big goon and patiently waited to find out why he was there. Though he had an idea what was coming.

"Just keep still and listen," directed Mario. He picked up a cat. "You didn't see the boys come out of the house. They were on the beach. Got that?"

Gene nodded as he rubbed his sore neck. "Yes, I was mistaken," he murmured. "No, the cops must have misunderstood me."

"Peachy! This is to help you recognize the magnitude." Mario broke the cat's neck and tossed the body onto Gene's lap. He pointed at the cat. "That could be you. Do ya folla?"

Gene stared down at his dead pet and nodded.

"One other thing." Mario threw an enveloped onto the sofa. "There will be more money after your neighbor is convicted. Now listen carefully on what you forgot to tell the cops about Mr. Paine."

**Tom Paine was furious** when he heard Gene had changed his story. He patiently waited by an eatery he knew the boys stopped by daily.

Chopping down on foot-long hot dogs, Dave and Jimmy exited the small greasy spoon. Jimmy with his mouth full asked, "Are you sure Red's not talking?"

"Watch what you say," whispered Dave as Tom approached them. "Hello Mr. Paine. How's Cookie doing?"

"What were you kids doing in my house two weeks ago?"

"We weren't in your house. We were tossing a Frisbee around on the beach," replied Jimmy.

Tom got close to Dave. "Look in my eyes and tell me that, Dave."

Dave glanced up at Tom and then down, embarrassed.

A black Buick came to a screeching halt several feet away. Mario Mazella jumped out and sprinted over to them. As he approached he yelled out, "Do we have a problem here?" Making his way toward Tom he motioned the boys to step aside while he got face to face with Tom, trying to intimidate him.

Tom glared back, unafraid. "I'm having a little chat with my wife's murderers. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yeah, I do." He turned to the boys. "Get in my car, boys."

"Mr. Paine wasn't bothering us." Dave looked up and kept eye contact with Tom as he said, "I'm sorry for your loss. We didn't have anything to do with it. I swear!"

"Get going! Now," shouted Mario.

Jimmy saluted Mario before strolling away. Dave, head down, followed Jimmy.

"Later, boys!"

Mario poked Tom hard in the chest. "There isn't gonna be a later, lover boy. Got that?"

"You touch me again and I'll put you down."

"You think you're man enough?" Mario moved closer.

"I know I am." Tom appeared confident and prepared to battle.

Mario assessed the situation. He determined his employer would not be pleased if he beat-up Paine in front of Dave. "Ya shouldn't have messed with my boss's wife." Mario turned and headed for the car. "That was a very foolish thing to do."

Tom crossed his arms, observing Mario get into his Buick and driving away.

Jimmy, sitting on the backseat, asked, "Mr. Mazella, were you in 'Once Upon a Time in America'?"

Mario, driving, glanced at the rear view mirror, seeing Jimmy's grinning face. "Yeah, I was an extra."

"Good job! You really looked like a hood."

Mario smiled. "Thanks, kid!"

**Jimmy kneeled by a** chain link fence, peering through as Dave stood close by. A rat terrier, lying on the grass, observed the boys. Jimmy pushed a dog biscuit through an opening. "Here you go boy, come and get it." The rat terrier tilted his head to the side. Jimmy moved the biscuit in a circle and whistled. The terrier got up and cautiously strolled over to Jimmy and bit into the treat.

Gene Evans, wearing a powder blue short sleeve shirt with the U.S. Postal Eagle logo, marched toward the boys with a letter carrier bag slung over his shoulder.

The boys stepped away from the fence and eyed Evans. Jimmy smiled. "It's pimple puss, in person. A face only a maggot could love. Well, maybe another faggot might."

The rat terrier stared up at Evans and growled. He tucked in his tail, his ears went back and then he showed his teeth.

"Do you think he did a lot of pimple popping when he was kid?" Jimmy asked Dave, loud enough for Evans to hear.

"Come on, Jimmy, leave him alone."

Evans looked with contempt at the boys as he walked by. Jimmy reached over and lifted the fork latch on the gate. He swung it open.

The rat terrier saw the outlet and took off after Evans. Evans turned, reached into his pocket and pulled out his pepper spray. He squirted it into the face of the charging animal. The dog stopped and yelped as he ran in a circle a few times before running back into his yard.

Jimmy closed the gate. "Ahhh! The pimple puss is mean."

Evans glared at Jimmy.

"You got a problem, pus face?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

Imitating a girl and bending a wrist, Jimmy said, "Nothing I can't handle."

Evans held back his anger. "When you're old enough." He turned and strutted away.

The shadow of a very large man covered Jimmy. He turned, looked up and shaded his eyes with a hand. "The circus is back in town."

"We're still not talking to you," Dave said to Shortman.

Shortman grabbed Jimmy by the shirt and yanked him off his feet. "You're coming with me, punk."

"What? No, make my day?" Jimmy glanced down at the sidewalk. "Ya better put me down. I'm afraid of heights."

**In one corner** of Gene's second floor room by the windows facing Narragansett Bay were a telescope and a weight machine. Nearby a stuffed man's shirt hung from a punching bag pole. Gene stood with his feet together six feet from the hanging shirt. On the wall behind him was a samurai sword in a black wooden scabbard. Gene jumped and kicked the shirt with both feet and landed on the floor in a standing position. He lost his balance momentarily and regained it. Several cats watched while one ambled over and rubbed against Gene's leg. He admired the cat. "In a couple of years I'll be kicking that smile off that thug's face."

**Jimmy sat in** a small interrogation room, showing Shortman his Cheshire cat like smile. With a telephone book, Shortman whacked the back of Jimmy's head.

"Ouch!" Jimmy cried out as he rubbed the sore area.

"Attacking a postman is a federal offence, a felony."

"Yeah! Right! I attacked him. Notify the FBI."

The large book struck again. Thump! "Ever been to Buttonwoods?"

"Of course, to play basketball and I've been to Job Lot many times."

Shortman stood next to Jimmy, moving the phone book around. "I'm interested in a break-in two summers ago. A woman was stabbed to death. Does that ring a bell?"

"I heard about it."

"Did you hear about the recent Victoria Crane murder?"

"The one by Ann and Hope? Who hasn't?" Jimmy looked up at Shortman, then down, shaking his head. "No more questions. Call my lawyer."

"Do you know Craig Price?"

Jimmy ignored Shortman. He faked a yawn and glanced around the room.

"He gave you a black eye, didn't he? Was that for moving into his territory?"

Jimmy examined his finger tips, trying to tune out the giant. "Fee-fi-fo-fum I smell trouble coming from a very tall policebum."

Whack! The phone book struck the back of Jimmy's head. "Keep ignoring me and you'll be brain dead by the time you slither out of here."

"Okay! Okay! We had words after a basketball game. That kid's a psycho. He hit me for scoring points. That's all! He's a big bully. Kinda like you."

Shortman raised the phone book.

Jimmy protected his head with his arms and hands.

"We have a witness who saw you and Dave Disenzo in Buttonwoods by the victim's house the day of her murder."

"That's a lie. Price lived two doors down from her. I heard he boasted about slicing and dicing some white bitch that caught him thieving."

"How do you know he lived by her?"

"A reporter interviewed him. Dah! Don't you read the papers? Can you read?"

The phone book connected again. "Have you ever been inside the Alpine Ski and Dive store?"

"Yeah, Crane threw me and Price out of the store the day she was killed. You knew that, I'm sure."

"Give me the names of those who heard Price boast about slicing and dicing a woman."

**Shortman paced around** his Captain's office, extremely angry. He pointed at the folder on the desk. "There's reasonable doubt there."

"That's for a jury to decide - not you! Get that thru that mammoth head of yours."

"Proving adultery is all a jury needs for a murder conviction in this state. They'll find Paine guilty, no doubt, and we'll be responsible. Just give me a little more time."

"Okay, but leave those kids alone. Our hands are tied. Like it or not, they have the right to remain silent. It's the law of the land and one kid's lawyer can be an immense pain in the ass. Understand?" The captain waited patiently for a response.

Shortman glared at him. "Understood."

**Cookie wiped some sweat** off her forehead, and then crouched with a racket in her right hand, ready to receive. A yellow tennis ball ripped just over the bright white line on the black asphalt. She shouted, "Out!"

Linda, a very pretty girl with twinkling lavender eyes, black hair and a cheeky smile, pulled a ball out of her tennis skirt. She tossed it into the air a couple of times, eyeing her target. She tossed the ball up in front of her. Taking careful aim as the ball came down she stepped forward and smashed it with all her strength.

The ball landed fast and hard barely inside the line, just out of Cookie's reach.

"Ya nearly had me that time," Linda yelled out.

"Good game. Let's take a break."

Exhausted, the girls moved slowly over to a bench by the net and sat down. They each grabbed a bottle of Gatorade out of a small cooler, removed the caps and took a sip.

"How ya holdin' up?" Linda asked.

"Fine! No further questioning by that giant. I haven't spoken to Dave yet. I'm surprised he didn't attend the pervert's wake or funeral."

"He'll be sniffin' ya out like a dog in heat before long. Ya can count on that. Did ya know there's a nude beach in Charlestown?" Linda rubbed her bottle across her sweaty forehead.

"No, I didn't." Cookie drank some more of her red beverage.

"It might be fun to check it out. Besides, that pale body of yours could use some sun."

"Look who's talking. How about tomorrow?"

"Okay. I should work on a full body tan in case I have a nude scene this year."

"Yeah, that's gonna happen at Pilgrim High." Linda arose from the bench, picking up her tennis racket. "I'm ready for another quick set."

### Moonstone Beach

**It was called** Moonstone Beach because of the numerous shinning white stones that can be seen by the water's edge at low tide. Nudists from neighboring states flocked there to bask in the sun. Skin fans went there to observe the nude bathers.

Dave and Jimmy were pleasantly surprised to come across Cookie and Linda, naked, sitting on a light purple blanket.

"There's Cookie! I recognize her tits," blurted Jimmy, staring wide-eyed at the girls.

The girls brought their knees together and crossed their ankles as the boys advanced.

"What's with the bathing suits, boys?" asked Linda. "Ashamed of your short comings?"

"We're just passing through," Dave answered, embarrassed. "We have to meet with my dad at the Ocean Mist in ten minutes."

"Whatever your little heart desires, Linda." Jimmy removed his swim trunks.

Linda stared, leaned forward and squinted. "My, my, you're hung like my hamster."

"That's odd, he has huge hands," said Cookie. "Obviously, an old wives' tale."

"You tell me. I wouldn't know." Linda winked at Cookie.

Jimmy scanned the area. "Observe the others, Linda. Just like at a nudist wedding, you can actually see who the best man is." He put his hands on his hips, chin up.

"I'm not interested in small stuff" Linda slightly separated her feet and legs. "Are we going to be working together this fall?"

"Yep! I talked with Mr. Ford. I'll work my magic. Then I'll have you in my arms like a boa around a rabbit before winter." Jimmy eyeballed Linda's breasts.

"Beware, Jimmy's been watching you, scheming, waiting to make his move," Dave said, focusing on Linda's lavender eyes.

"Devious. I like that in a boy." Linda put her hands flat on the blanket and leaned back while observing Dave's eye movement. She was impressed by his ability to maintain eye contact.

"Cookie, can I see you later?" asked Dave. "We gotta get going."

"Call me. The number's in the book."

"Great! We can go to the Ground Round."

Jimmy put his swimwear back on. "Later, girls."

Dave waved as they walked away.

"See ya," said Linda. She leaned towards Cookie and whispered, "You see that thing? Ouch! Maybe I should get him to put sun-screen on my butt just to watch it grow."

"Why don't ya, before he gets away?"

Linda handed Cookie the sun-screen lotion and then lied on her stomach. "Protect me from the sun, please."

**The Ocean Mist** bar and grill had a huge deck overlooking the ocean. Ray and his attorney met with the boys in the far corner above the water. The counsel stressed on the importance of not discussing the case with anyone. No matter what. Then he questioned each boy one at a time. Surprisingly no inquiries as to what actually happened inside the house. As far as he was concerned they never stepped inside that house that night. At no time did Ray or his attorney ask either one if they touched, raped or murdered Florence Paine.

Jimmy appreciated the free legal service and cover-up, but he didn't particularly care for the way the lawyer spoke to him. Different from the friendly and polite manner he had treated Dave. He smiled and looked the attorney in the eye. "We didn't touch that woman. She was already nude and dead."

The lawyer glanced around the area. He pointed at Jimmy. "Nobody asked you. Keep your mouth shut. Do exactly what I recommended. Do you have a problem with that?"

Jimmy shock his head. "No! Just saying. You look at me like I'm a piece of crap."

**A pretty server** placed a basket full of peanuts on the table between Dave and Cookie inside the Ground Round eating area. "May I get you another coke?"

"No, thank you," answered Dave.

The waitress wearing a skin color latex glove picked up Dave's empty glass and placed it on her tray. She marched away crushing peanut shells scattered on the floor as a cartoon played on a large screen mounted to a wall. As soon as she entered the kitchen an extra large gloved hand lifted Dave's glass off the tray. Shortman placed it into clear poly bag.

**Cookie leaned forward** and whispered, "You knew the jewelry box meant a lot to me."

"I know. I'm sorry." Dave scanned the area. "How come your dad didn't give it to you after your mom died?"

"Too young I guess before he married Mom's sister. Just months after her funeral."

Dave appeared confused. "Is that legal?"

Cookie laughed. "Yeah, it's legal to marry your sister-in-law. Odd, but legal."

"I know. Just kidding. We think your neighbor, Gene Evans, killed her."

"That's what I think. He's a creep. Always stalking my Aunt Florence."

"There's a beach party tonight in Oakland Beach. Wanna go?"

"Love to but my dad won't let me. He'd kill me if he knew I was with you."

"Would you like to see 'Singin' in the Rain' a week from tomorrow? It's playing at the Theatre by the Sea."

"I'm sorry, Dave, you know with school starting and all, I'm gonna be very busy."

Dave's face turned red. He looked depressed.

Cookie felt sorry for Dave. Not just now but going back to the fourth grade, her first day of school in Conimicut. Back then, prior to his prosthesis, she couldn't help but to notice three fingers were missing from his right hand. He was sitting at the desk to her right constantly staring at her. Her peripheral vision was so good, she could clearly see him and knew by his face he liked what he saw.

Cookie reached across the table and touched Dave's good hand. "We'll go out again, I promise. Do you remember rejecting me when we where eleven?"

"More than you could ever imagine. I lost sleep over that blunder. He had absolutely nothing to do with rejecting you."

### Mad Love

**Holding several books** close to her chest, eleven-year-old Cookie strolled down the sidewalk. Dave followed close behind trying to get up enough nerve to walk alongside her. He stared at her blonde hair, feeling his heart pound rapidly and wondering if she could hear it. It was loud.

He thought, "What do I say? Hi, Cookie. How ya doing, Cookie?" His throat felt very dry. "Say something, stupid," he mused.

Cookie stopped and turned. Her mesmerizing smile materialized. Dave froze - speechless.

"Wanna carry my books?" asked Cookie.

"No!" Dave quickly responded, immediately regretting it. Extremely embarrassed by his stupidity, he rushed away. He perspired and felt weak all over.

The next day in class Dave gazed at Cookie from across the room as Jimmy Timber stood by his desk reading out loud. Jimmy was tall and thin. He had large lips, menacing close-set eyes, and a narrow face. There wasn't a trace of a Rhode Island accent as he recited several paragraphs at a breakneck speed.

The teacher appeared stunned. "Very good, Jimmy. Next time try not to read so fast."

The majority of the class laughed.

Dave, oblivious to the laughter, just sat there admiring Cookie.

Cookie turned and gave him a friendly smile. Dave smiled back. "Yes!" he thought to himself. "She likes me. The first chance I get, I'll carry her books."

Larry, a fat boy with a shaved head, viewed the interplay. He sat warily at the desk behind Cookie. Larry squinted, starring at his lovesick classmate. When he caught Dave's eye, he showed him a clinched fist.

After school Larry and another boy approached Dave. Larry shoved him. Within a minute or two a dozen classmates gathered around them. Anticipating a fight and thinking the kid missing a few fingers didn't have a chance against the class bully, one known for sucker punching smaller boys and getting away with it.

"What's your problem, Larry?" Dave asked, holding his right hand behind him.

"You know, freak."

"I don't have a clue. Why don't you just tell me?"

"Keep away from the new girl."

"Why? Obviously, she's not your girlfriend. No cane. No seeing eye dog." Dave knew he was at a disadvantage. It wouldn't be that way if he had two working fists. Even so he didn't fear Larry.

Larry looked confused. "Huh?"

"She's not blind, stupid."

Jimmy, standing with the other spectators, laughed out loud.

Larry noticed and pointed at Jimmy. "What are you laughing at, motor mouth?"

Jimmy looked at him soberly and grinned. "Your face, cue ball. You look like E. T., only uglier."

Larry, fidgeting, squinted at Jimmy.

Jimmy squinted back while shaking his head side-to-side.

Larry's round face and head turned a bright red. "When we finish with the freak,

you're next."

Jimmy strolled over to Dave and stood next to him. "I haven't been in a good fight

since I've moved back here from Utah." Unexpectedly, he summoned Larry with a finger. "Come on fat boy, bring it on. I'll add some red blood and blue bruises to your white face. You'll look patriotic. It'll be an improvement."

Larry and his friend sized up Jimmy and Dave. "Some other time," Larry said, before rushing away. His friend followed.

"Yeah! When there's only one of us?" Jimmy yelled.

Dave noticed Cookie and another classmate, Linda, exiting the school. He watched in awe.

Detecting that Dave was captivated by Cookie's loveliness, Jimmy said, "Of all the schools, in all the towns, she walks into mine. That's the most beautiful girl ever to move to Conimicut. And that's a gross understatement."

Dave looked up at Jimmy. "Casablanca?"

"Yeah, after my re-write."

**The next day** in class Cookie wasn't herself. She appeared unhappy and stressed out. No friendly smiles. Dave gawked at her all day. She didn't seem to notice. When school let out he followed her, hoping she would become aware of him and say something. Even if it was just hi. A hand touched his right shoulder. Startled, he looked to his right but nobody was there. Jimmy was to his left. "There's a big snake in my backyard, wanna see it?"

Heartbroken, he watched Cookie get away. "Okay."

**Jimmy led Dave** to a small pond behind his house. A colorful red, black and white garter snake over four feet long, coiled, slept by the water. The boys stopped about ten feet away. Dave never saw a live one before. "I hate snakes!"

"Come on! Show a little backbone, will ya!" Jimmy said, quoting a line out of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark,' his favorite movie.

They went inside the house. Dave met Jimmy's mother.

"My, you're a fine looking boy. The girls are going to be after you," she predicted.

"When?" Dave wondered, but said, "Thank you."

"You resemble Tab Hunter, my first Hollywood heartthrob. A blond-haired, blue-eyed actor and singer. His song, 'Young Love', was a big hit. Many years later it turned out he was gay. He even married another man five or six years ago. Go figure. So many of the great looking men in Hollywood turn out to be gay."

Jimmy, agitated by his mother, said, "Ma, please..."

"Okay! Okay! I got some vegetables to cut up for supper. I'm making your favorite: beef stew." She headed for the kitchen.

Jimmy led Dave to an old phonograph by the wall. It had a crank and a speaker that looked like a large horn. Jimmy placed a 78 RPM record on the wheel and the arm holding the needle onto the record. He turned the crank. They listened to Paul Frees imitating Peter Lorre singing 'My Old Flame'. It was the Spike Jones version where Frees goes into a manic rant. When it was over, Jimmy recited the lyrics and ended with: "My new lovers all so tame - They won't let me strangle them!" Jimmy held his hands out as if he was strangling someone. "My old flame - She would always treat me mean - So I poured a can of gasoline - And struck a match to...My old flame."

"You're a sick puppy, aren't you?" asked Dave.

"Nah! Just a wanna be actor practicing the trade.

**During the summer** of '87 Dave got what he considered his first date with Cookie. Dave and Jimmy rode Rocky Point's Cyclone. All the seats were occupied and everybody held their arms up. The two boys sat in the last car as it zoomed along at 55 mph down 3 vertical drops before rushing through 2 corkscrews.

Dave felt off balance and disoriented as he stepped off the ride. To his pleasant surprise he spotted Cookie and Linda eating cotton candy while strolling through the crowed amusement park. The boys rushed over to them.

They all exchange hellos and how you doing. Everybody was having a great summer and nobody was looking forward to going back to school except for Dave. He wouldn't dare tell anyone the only reason why. He just wanted to be close to his dream girl. To sit by her and admire her every chance he got.

Cookie asked, "Did you hear about that murder in Buttonwoods?"

Both boys nodded. Dave said, "I read about it. She was stabbed nine times with a knife out of her kitchen. Lucky her two kids weren't there. Who knows what would have happened to them."

"The murderer knows," Jimmy said, moving a finger across his neck. "Leave no witnesses. Just like those turkeys did in the movie 'In Cold Blood'. It's in black and white but still a great movie. Robert Blake doesn't look like he would kill a fly, but that Scott Wilson looks like a natural born killer."

They spent the rest of the day together: going on rides such as the Flume, Tilt-a-Whirl, Sky Diver, House of Horror and the bumper cars. Dave enjoyed every moment spent with Cookie. It was like one of his dreams. Dave never wanted it to end. Each time they touched he felt her with his heart. A feeling he never experienced before. Nothing had ever made him feel that good. It was the best day of his life. Long after they said their good-byes he felt overjoyed.

**Up until the** first day of the new school year Dave couldn't stop fantasizing about Cookie. In his dreamland they were always together laughing and having fun. Doing what teenagers in love do. Occupying a seat next to her in the classroom was one of the simple pleasures he had envisioned. Other than that, nothing notable up to the time she asked to see inside his tree house. Until then she had rejected his passes: invitations to school dances, dinner and movie dates. Every polite brush-off hurt immensely. Sorry Dave, but I made plans. My dad thinks Basic Instinct might be inappropriate. I saw Moonstruck last week. Dave eventually took the hint and gave up pursuing her.

**August of '89** , shortly prior to Florence's murder, Dave and Jimmy were browsing inside the Alpine Ski and Dive Shop. Craig Price, a large black kid, approached Jimmy.

"If it isn't the lucky basketball geek, how's your eye?" Price asked.

"What brings you here, sore loser? I thought blacks weren't into skiing and diving."

Price lunged at Jimmy, wrestling him to the floor.

Vickie Crane, an employee, and Barry, an off duty police officer, raced over to the combatants. Barry stopped the ruckus and separated the two. "Want me to run them in?" he asked the pretty 29 year-old woman.

Vickie pondered for a few seconds. "No, just ask the big one to leave."

"Why – 'cause I'm black?" Price glared at her.

"No, I saw you start the fight."

The handsome blond cop summoned Price with a finger. "Follow me or I'll run you in." He flashed his badge prior to leading Price to the exit.

Vickie was depressed. Barry, a married man, had just broken up with her. Following Barry's departure from the store, Dave asked Vickie a few questions about diving. Vickie's mind was elsewhere. With a blank stare she faced Jimmy.

"Don't bother with me," Jimmy said, "I'm only into muff diving."

Vickie overreacted and ordered Jimmy to leave the store. She broke down and cried. A co-worker tried to comfort her. She accompanied Vickie to a restroom and listened to how Vickie thought Barry would leave his wife for her. That brief chat, a love letter, and Barry cheating on his wife were enough to convict the cop of murder. Vickie was murdered that night. Contrary to what her confessed murderer, Price, would say many years later, it appeared the slayer crushed Vickie's skull with a 17 pound fire extinguisher while she slept. She was found dead with a plastic night guard in her mouth. It's used to prevent grinding of the teeth while sleeping. There was an extremely large footprint impression on the floor by her body. Barry's foot size was much smaller. Apparently the killer removed his footwear prior to sneaking into her apartment to murder her.

### The Warwick Slasher

**Sept. 1st, 1989** , two weeks after Florence's murder, Craig Price's cronies went to a house party without him. He believed one of them was a racist and that's why he wasn't invited. If he came across them later on that Friday night, he would beat them up. With any luck maybe some of them will show up at the beach party he was walking to.

There were twenty or so, all white, gathered around a large campfire on the beach. Most were standing around drinking beer and a few were smoking pot. Price recognized Jimmy and rushed over to him. "Hey clown, gotta extra brewski?"

Jimmy lifted his can of Narragansett beer. "Sorry, last one."

Price could hear jokes being told nearby. One kid had asked what kind of wood doesn't float and then said Natalie Wood. An older man said, "How do you make a nigger nervous? Take him to an auction."

Price wanted to throw him into the fire, but he figured he'd have to fight all twenty of them.

Jimmy ignored Price and turned to Dave standing by his side. "This salesman sold my dad fire insurance and then tried to sell him flood insurance. My dad said, 'Flood insurance? How do I start a flood?'"

Price glared at the large racist white jokester smiling at him from ten feet away.

Jimmy said to Dave, "Last night Johnny Carson said America is the land of opportunity where every boy can grow up and say, 'Hey look, there goes a rich guy.'"

Price stormed off. By the time he reached Casey Craven's house he had a headache. To make matters worse he saw Casey peeking out her window. He imagined Casey was watching him in contempt until she closed her blinds - a typical white woman.

Price plodded home, several houses away.

**Tom met with Shortman** in a dimly lit corner of a barroom. Shortman leaned forward. "They want to charge you, Mr. Paine. You're certain Evans lied about the time you were arguing?"

"I'm positive, only once before eight."

"Do you think Florence told Mr. Disenzo about your affair with his wife?"

"It might be the other way around. I don't know. Other than those partial fingerprints what else did they find in the house?"

"We found cat fur in the living room, on the staircase and in her bedroom. Odd since the house cleaner vacuumed around at four the day of the murder. Is it feasible that Florence may have visited him before you argued?"

"No way! She thought the guy was a pervert."

"Then, I reckon he might have been in her room that night."

"You feel he might have done it?"

"Perhaps, my gut says yes. But I haven't ruled out several viable suspects. There's another unsolved murder a couple of miles away. It appears to be another break-in gone astray. The burglar used a knife from her home, too. It's a long shot, but the murders might be connected."

"Why is it a long shot?"

"I can't tell you everything I know about the case; that might be construed as unethical."

"What about me? Am I one of your suspects?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here. Have another drink. We'll talk some more. Maybe I can get you drunk enough to confess."

"You wouldn't believe me if I did. You're that good, Detective. The next round of drinks is on me."

**Price smoked pot** in his room, trying to reason with himself but the more he thought about that look on her face, the angrier he got. Shortly before midnight he came to a solution. The only solution: kill Casey Craven.

He dressed in his 'thieving' outfit: black clothing, black gloves, and sneakers covered with black tape. As soon as left his house he felt an adrenaline rush. His headache went away. He felt excited. His heart beat faster and faster as he scampered through his neighbors' yards and over a couple of stockade fences to the Craven's house, about 100 yards from his house.

The back door was locked. More readily was an open window to a small dinning area. First he cut out the screen with his knife and then removed his sneakers. He glanced around the backyards of the nearby houses before crawling through the window. He landed on a table. His 200 plus pounds caused one of the legs to cave-in. The noise of the furniture and him hitting the floor woke up all the occupants.

Casey, a thirty-nine-year-old widow, opened her eyes. She heared the noise. Mainly concerned about the safety of her two daughters she got out of bed to investigate. After turning on a small lamp by her bed she focused on a photo of her late husband in his army uniform. She missed him so much. It's been over six years since he killed himself, but rarely does a day go by without thinking about him. His picture always brought a smile followed by sadness.

Craig got off the floor and rushed toward the bedrooms. It was so dark he could barely see that the doors were shut. Suddenly a light shinned through the bottom of one of the doors. He grabbed the doorknob as the door to his right swung open. A tiny figure stood in the doorway. Her small hand flipped the light switch.

Carla, age seven, stood there, terrified. Price grabbed her and slammed a hand across her mouth. He carried her down the hallway.

Another door flew open. Casey appeared. She saw Price with her baby and charged after him. Price tossed Carla to the floor and slammed Casey against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She barely got out, "Call 9 1 1," as Price's knife went into her chest. She went down.

Carla ran for the telephone.

Price went after her. He caught her, ripped the phone from her hands, and then plunged his knife into her shoulder. Carla screamed in agony as Craig grabbed a stool. He bashed her head again and again and again. After every powerful blow blood flew out, leaving splatter on him and the surrounding cabinets. He took a moment to watch her die and listen to her death rattle. While getting off her lifeless little body, he noticed a rack of knives on the counter. He grabbed one and hurried back into the hallway.

Nine year-old Gale knelt by her mother, crying, "Mommy, mommy, please wake up."

Price stabbed her repeatedly. Before long Gale's arms fell limp to her side. Her petite body fell on the floor. Price listened for her death rattle. It came; giving him a thrill he would remember and brag about it to anyone willing to listen. He stabbed Gale's bloody body over and over again before getting up.

Price went back to stabbing Casey's body, eight more times until he accidentally stabbed his finger. "Shit!" he cried out, shaking his hand.

He ran into the bathroom and found a Band-Aid. While shuffling back to Casey he placed the bandage over the deep gash in his finger. He dropped the wrapper by Casey's body, removed his gloves from his pocket and put them back on. "Racist bitch," he murmured. Then Price got down on a knee and cut out Casey's eyes.

When he finished with Casey, he stomped into the kitchen and tossed the knife into the sink. He glanced down at little Carla. A large pool of blood had formed around her head.

He fetched another knife from the rack and knelt over the dead child, placing his knees just outside her thighs. He stabbed her until the blade went through her thin neck, stuck to the floor and broke off at the handle.

Before leaving the house he gathered some towels and attempted to clean up some of the blood around his victims' bodies. In a short amount of time he found a trash bag for the bloody towels, his gloves and the knives. He left the house with the bag, put on his sneakers and sprinted home.

A couple of days later the bodies were found by Casey's mother. The media reported that the murders were committed by an apparent burglar living in their neighborhood. They assumed the victims caught the robber stealing inside their homes. Even with the obvious overkill, none suspected hatred as a possible motive. If so, nobody wrote about it.

**Dave and Jimmy** were strolling through the Rocky Point amusement park when they came across Price. Jimmy noticed a gauze bandage wrapped around Price's finger. He frowned and shook his head. "I read three more of your neighbors were sliced and diced. Still thieving and dicing?"

A friendly smile left Price's face. In a rage he pushed Jimmy. "Give me the fin you owe me, clown."

"For what?"

"For not bashing your ugly face in."

Jimmy showed no fear and took a half step towards Price. "Careful, I'm not a little girl. You sucker punched me once, fat boy. That's not going to happen again."

Dave clenched a fist, ready to assist his friend.

A large shadow went over Price. Jimmy looked up and smiled. "RoboCop meet King Kong."

"We've met." Shortman stepped in front of Price. He pointed. "What happened to your finger?"

"I got drunk a few nights ago and punched out a car window. I saw a wallet on the seat. Couldn't resist."

Jimmy laughed. "You cut it vandalizing a car? That's what you're telling a cop? You're a lot dumber than I thought." Jimmy gazed up at Shortman. "You should introduce him to your phone book."

Shortman appeared confused. He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at Price. "What motivated you to do such a thing, Craig?"

Price showed Shortman his boyish smile and looked a little embarrassed. "Ya know, I was drunk. And the wallet turned out to be empty."

Jimmy laughed. "What a moron. Confess to a lesser crime - that should work."

Price glared at Jimmy until Shortman grabbed his arm and led him through a crowd saying, "Let's go to the station. I have some photos to show you."

Jimmy yelled, "Don't forget to use your phone book."

Shortman took his prisoner out an exit facing the bay. They walked a little before stopping in front of take out window. Shortman purchased a bag of clam cakes and led Price across a paved road to a park bench that faced the water. After sitting down Shortman shoved the bag in front of his detainee. Price took one without saying a word.

"Enjoy the gentle wind and the smell of the salt water, Craig," said Shortman admiring the view and taking in a deep breath of fresh air. "We can chat here or down the station with your parents present, your call."

Shortman bit into the round greasy dough he held by his finger tips. As he chewed he examined a piece of quahog surrounded by white batter prior to putting the remaining half in his mouth. Then he offered Price another one. Craig took one and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. With a mouth full of dough he mumbled, "Why are we here?"

"To discuss your finger. May I have a look?"

"Sure, I got nothing to hide." Price removed the white gauze.

Shortman scrutinized the cut. "There are no abrasions around the wound. It's clear a knife cut your finger. Not broken glass. Was it a burglary gone bad, Craig?"

"No, I didn't do any killing. I wasn't there!"

"Then tell me how you cut your finger."

"I told you. I did it breaking into a car."

Shortman put his hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Car glass shatters into pellets. No way could it have pierced your finger. It's impossible." He offered Price another clam cake and took one himself. After he finished eating it he asked, "What kind of person murders children like that?"

"A crazy person or one high on drugs."

"What kind of drugs were you on, Craig?"

"I didn't do it, I swear."

"We turned over a mountain of evidence to the FBI for analysis. Have you ever been inside Casey Craven's house?"

"No."

"How are you going to explain your blood, footprint and fingerprints by those bodies when the results come back, Craig? You left a good print on the Band-Aid wrapper."

"The obvious: the police are just trying to pin the crime on a black kid."

"Come on, Craig. Think about it. You've been arrested for B & E, peeping into houses, vandalism, multiple assaults and all you got was probation. Just last month you assaulted your sister, your father and a police officer. Your father had to help the arresting officer get you into handcuffs. What was your punishment? A night in detention and probation? I'll show you a long list of white kids who spent time in Sockanosset for much less. It appears white kids are discriminated against and black kids get preferential treatment when it involves the law."

"If you're gonna arrest me, do it. Otherwise, I wanna go home. You're another racist picking on an innocent black kid."

"First let me treat you to a cup of clam chowder."

"Okay, but no more questions."

"Just one, Craig. Did you brag about murdering a neighbor who caught you thieving two years ago?"

Price was rattled by the inquiry. His so-called friends had ratted on him. He was sure of it. So he played it cool and smiled at his interrogator. "I was joshing with 'em. Ya know, we were doing drugs and telling stories - trying to out do each other. You must 'member what it was like when you were 13 or 14. I liked Becky. Played touch football with her son many times."

"You recently told Jimmy about the murder. I'm not aware of him ever doing drugs. He's a smart kid. Only stupid kids do drugs."

"Yeah! I told that clown that after he told me he raped and murdered Mrs. Paine. He said the bitch was begging for it. He fucked her. The he stabbed her nine times. To make it look like that other murder. That's what he told me."

"Are you willing to take a lie detector test, Craig?"

"Sure, that'll prove I'm not lying. Jimmy and that freak with fake fingers probably killed Mrs. Craven and her kids. The one by Ann and Hope, too. Believe me, that clown's a psycho. The freak does whatever he's told to do. He's afraid of that psycho."

The captain sat at his desk, reading a report. He looked up at Shortman. "Do you believe James Timber admitted to raping and killing Mrs. Paine?"

"Absolutely not! That kid's smart. An honor student. He's not the type to boast about murdering and raping - especially to Price. He may have done it, but he didn't brag about it. It's common knowlege about the nine stab wounds."

"Good! The prosecutor wants Paine arrested."

"Price might have killed her too. No doubt he murdered four and I think Victoria Crane, too."

"We'll let a jury decide. Set up an appointment for the polygraph test. Be sure both parents are there. And have him sign a statement that he was never in Casey Craven's house before the test."

**Price thought t** he test seemed ridiculously easy to beat up to, "Do you know where the murder weapons are?"

"No," answered Price. He thought, "Oh fuck! They're in the shed."

The machine detected indecision. He was lying. The majority of his answers were all lies. Afterwards the police obtained a warrant to search his house and shed. After finding the murder weapons and bloody gloves inside a bag, Price was put under arrest and handcuffed.

His mother cried and his father screamed at the arresting police officers.

A few weeks prior to his sixteenth birthday, Price confessed to four murders. On

September 21, 1989 Craig Price appeared before a Judge at the Kent County Courthouse. During the brief proceedings, Price was read the four murder and burglary charges against him. He pled guilty to all them. The Judge ordered that he be held in the training school for boys until his twenty-first birthday. The maximum sentence allowed by law in Rhode Island. Also he was ordered to undergo psychiatric treatment to prepare him for release as a free man with a clean record.

In hand cuffs Craig Price left the courthouse with a smile on his face. Some of his chums were outside shouting his name. He yelled to them, "Later, when I get out we'll all smoke a bomber together.''

### Dial M for Murder

**Linda, wearing a** robe, sat at a dressing table, brushing her short black hair. Floor length curtains hung to her left. A telephone on a small round table by her right side rang. Ring! Ring! She grabbed the handset and spoke into it. "Hello....hello." She arose from the chair and turned with her back to the curtains, waiting for a response.

Jimmy slowly stepped out from behind a curtain. With both hands, he held a thin rope out in front of his face. He advanced slowly and cautiously toward Linda.

Linda talked into the mouthpiece. "Hello?" Linda lowered the handset and looked down at it, confused.

Jimmy moved closer and stopped within reach of Linda. He brought the rope up into to air and suddenly stopped, staring at Linda's head.

Linda had lifted the phone against her ear, listening. Sensing someone was on the other end but not responding to her greetings. Ensuing a few moments of silence she lowered the phone to her side.

Jimmy lunged forward and wrapped the rope around Linda's neck. He started to strangle her. A pleasant expression appeared on his face as if he was enjoying it immensely. He rubbed himself against Linda's butt, fully aroused.

Linda let go of handset. It fell to the floor. Then with both hands she tried pry the rope from around her neck. It wouldn't budge. A pair of barber scissors lay on the dressing table. Linda reached for them. They were inches away from the tips of her fingers. She stretched her arm out as far as possible, just barely touching them.

Jimmy moved Linda side-to-side several times. Each time her fingers got closer and closer to the scissors. Finally they were within reach and firmly in her right hand. She somehow managed to turn her body a hundred and eighty degrees to her left and stab Jimmy in the back.

Jimmy immediately let go of the rope.

Linda rubbed her neck while stepping away from her attacker. She watched his every move. Prepared to defend herself if she had to.

The scissors stuck out of the center of Jimmy's back, below the neck enough to be out of his reach, away from his finger tips. His face showed great pain as he tried to reach them. Eventually he fell to the floor, playing dead.

Dave and Cookie sat in the front row of the high school auditorium. He whispered into her ear. "Jimmy was quite good. Maybe he will make it as an actor."

**Backstage after their** performances, Jimmy stood with Linda. She was furious. "How could you?"

"Sorry! I have no control. It has a mind of its own. It won't happen again, I promise. How about it? Please!"

"No! Especially after poking me with that." Linda pointed. "Lucky for you that didn't affect my performance. If ya tried that during rehearsal, I would have slapped your face."

"Come on, just a movie," pleaded Jimmy. "We can double date with Dave and Cookie, if you insist."

"I should call it off, but I won't. Dinner tonight and I'll go wit' ya to Dave's Halloween party. I'll be busy til then."

"Humm! When I'm a big movie star, I'll remember all the times you shot me down. You will be begging me to take you to one of my big premieres. You'll want to meet famous actors. I'll remind you how busy you were every time I asked you for a date."

Linda, smiling, got close to Jimmy and gently rubbed his cheek. "If I want to go, you'll take me. Especially after touching some of the goods. I usually get what and who I want. Ya got enough on ya to buy me a lobster dinner?"

"Don't worry. Order whatever you desire. Dave will pick up the tab. He's loaded." He tried to place an arm around her.

Linda tenderly jabbed her elbow into him. "Hands off! How much did Dave get from that malpractice lawsuit?"

"The hospital and his doctor's insurance paid big bucks. I'm sure his dad had a lot to do with that. No one seen Dave's doctor and his assistance shortly after it happened."

**Wearing a bright red** Superman cape, six-year-old David raced around on freshly mowed grass, head down and arms stretched out over his head. Fantasizing he was flying like the super hero in a movie. At the sound of a cat's meow he stopped and squinted up at the large oak in the far corner of his parents' property by the bay. Way above his head a white cat perched on a limb, staring down and howling for help.

"Don't worry, Whitey, Superboy will save you." Dave climbed up to the branch the cat was on. Initially, he attempted to coax the snow white feline to move closer to him. "Come here, Whitey." He beckoned with a finger while gripping onto the branch with his other hand.

Whitey held its position. Its deep royal blue eyes glared at the small child. Noticing the cat's reluctance to comply with his demand, Dave crawled on his hands and knees toward the pussy. Every time he got just within reach, Whitey slowly backed away toward the end of the limb. When the cat was unable to move back any farther, Dave reached his tiny hand within striking distance. The frightened feline scratched it. The claw marks barely broke the skin but inflicted enough pain to startle Dave. He lost his balance and plummeted to the ground, breaking his right arm. A bone pierced the skin just above his wrist. He screamed out in excruciating pain.

Dave slept in a private hospital room, his arm in a tight cast. His eyes opened and his head turned toward his father who had just entered the room.

"Does it still hurt?" asked Ray Disenzo.

"Yes!"

Ray examined Dave's fingers: three of them were greenish-black. His eyes widened as he clinched his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. "You're out of here!" Ray lifted Dave and carried him out of the room.

Ray with Dave in his arms marched down the hallway of the hospital. A few nurses and a patient in a wheelchair watched, confused. An irritated nurse came out from behind her reception desk. She approached Ray and pointed at Dave's room, advising him to take Dave back. Ray ignored her as he stormed by. His face was beet red when he yelled back, "Tell Dr. Kennedy he would be seeing me, shortly." They left the hospital.

Dr. Kennedy grinned when Ray asked if he was a blood relative to JFK because he resembled the ex-president. "No relation, but I do hear that quite often."

"Incompetent asshole - do you hear that a lot?" asked Ray, sitting in front of the doctor's desk. "I paid top dollar for the best and get Helen Keller and Dr. Magoo."

Startled, Dr. Kennedy squirmed in his seat, glancing around as if he was looking for help. "How can I help you?"

"The gangrene was noticeable. Weren't you examining him?"

"My assistant was supposed to. She has been severely reprimanded. The hospital and my insurance company's agent will co-operate with you fully. I insisted on a substantial monthly payment for the rest of his life."

"Do I look like Monte Hall?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. The only fucking deal I'll give you is pick window one, two or three. If my wife wasn't in Europe, your face would be on a milk carton by now. She's very vindictive."

Dr. Kennedy got out of his seat and headed for the door.

Ray sprang out of his chair, jumping in front of him. "You heard of me, haven't you?"

Frightened, the doctor nodded. According to newspaper articles, Ray Disenzo was the most feared reputed crime boss in New England. Although never convicted of any serious crimes, many believed he had personally killed two people and ordered the assassination of nine others.

Ray grabbed the doc by the throat. "You're lucky the staff at Roger Williams saved his hand. Practice your voodoo somewhere else. I want you and your retarded assistant out of New England before noon tomorrow. Got that?" He released the quack.

Dr. Kennedy nodded, looking very confused.

"It's a safety precaution, in case I get the urge to end you. Out of state, out of mind." Ray strolled over to a painting of the doctor with his family hanging on the wall. While staring at it he said, "If you go to the police, your family will suffer immensely." He turned, facing Kennedy. "That's a promise. I'm a man of my word. Ask around."

Three fingers were surgically removed from Dave's hand.

### Partying with the Boys

Disenzo's recreation room was well-designed and enormous. Bottles of alcohol and liqueurs lay on shelves in front of a large mirror. Six unoccupied bar stools stood in front of a long bar. Three couples danced on the huge dance floor to Elvis Presley singing 'Can't Help Falling in Love'.

Dave, Abe Lincoln with a phony beard, danced with Cookie, Cleopatra with a rubber asp hanging around her neck. Lumpy and Rose were the Frankenstein monster and the bride of the Frankenstein monster.

Jimmy, Dracula, pulled Linda, Lady Godiva (wearing a flesh like costume), hard against his chest. He whispered into her ear. "Play your cards right, and I'll get you some good roles when I'm a big movie star."

"Are we talkin' castin' couch, fang boy?"

"Nah, I just vant to nibble on your neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. That's all."

"Ah, dishonesty! Does that usually work?"

"With choppers like mine, all the time." Jimmy showed his fangs.

"It takes a lot more than long fangs or that other long thing to impress me."

"Ah, so I do have more than your hamster, unless your hamster is a horse."

Dave danced Cookie away from the others. "You're a great dancer, but shouldn't I be leading?"

"Sorry."

"Practicing with girls?"

"Yup, call me Butch."

"You're too beautiful. Did you ever notice most lesbians are unattractive?"

"Really! I read Greta Garbo was a lesbian. She was stunning."

"I read that she slept with her director."

Cookie laughed. "If a lesbian has sex with a man, then she's no longer a lesbian?"

Dave put his arms on her shoulders and moved his face close to hers, their lips almost touching. "James Bond converts them all the time. Remember Pussy Galore?"

Cookie stepped back and gave a little tug on Dave's phony beard. "What about Honest Abe?"

"Well, I read he wasn't much of a ladies man. However, he was honest and charming."

"Very! You picked an appropriate costume."

Dave pulled her against him. "Would you go steady with an honest, charming and very handsome guy?"

"I don't have the time for a relationship, now."

"When will you have the time?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

Dave looked at his watch. "I'll give you a lifetime."

"Maybe ya ought to play the field, first."

"Done that. I'll be waiting for you."

"Ya might have a very long wait. I probably won't be dating again until after my dad's problems are behind us."

"You're worth waiting for."

"How can you be so sure?"

### The Trial

**The evidence against** Tom Paine wasn't overwhelming but enough to get him arrested.

"If you're convicted, you cannot profit from the crime. Hence, you can not receive any property, whether by intestacy, will, or nonprobate instruments, such as life insurance," explained Attorney Wool. "However, the killing must be willful and felonious. If you plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, you will inherit her money and property. I speculate a ten years in prison and out in eight deal can be reached."

"No, absoulutely not. They're lying. Prove it."

"Frankly, I can't. Sure, I can shed reasonable doubt. In the real court of law that's not enough. My advice is take a deal."

"No way! Get me a trial, fast."

"Possibly April. Maybe a little sooner."

"Six months?"

"Trust me, that's fast in this state. One other thing, Rhode Island bars even the killer's issue to inherit. Issue means a person's children or other lineal descendants such as grandchildren – direct bloodline. Something to think about. Florence left your daughter a lot of money. If you're convicted, Beatrice can't acquire any of it."

"I have faith in the judicial process. A jury will never convict me because I had an affair."

**The jury consisted of** nine women and three men with two male alternates. They all dressed casual except for Juror 9, a forty-year-old man who wore a tie and a blue camel hair blazer. He took notes as Gene testified.

"Yes, I heard them arguing, again, about eleven PM."

"Mr. Evans, how is that possible when she was murdered hours before?" asked Attorney Wool.

"Objection," the Prosecutor shouted, standing.

"Sustained," said the Judge. "I admonished you several times, wise up."

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," said Wool. "Mr. Evans, on two separate occasions you made statements to the police that you saw three boys run out of the victim's house, correct?"

"Maybe they misunderstood me. Anyway, I saw them running on the beach in front of the house. That's my testimony."

"Misunderstood you? Twice?" Wool raised his voice, almost yelling. "You're telling this jury," he waved his hand slowly in the direction of each juror, "You saw three boys run out of Mrs. Paine's house, your first statement to Officer Butterworth, was a misquote?"

"Yes, he must have misunderstood me."

Wool glanced at the jurors to see their reaction. He didn't like the feedback. Only a few looked as if they didn't believe him. The majority just seemed bored. He went on to get Gene to concede that the police didn't deliberately falsify the reports but he couldn't get him to admit to ever saying he saw the boys run out of the house.

Winnie's testimony was notably devastating. "Tom confided to me it was an accident. Her nagging and shouting about our affair got to him. He went insane and wasn't thinking when he held a pillow over her mouth. Then he stabbed her to make it look like that unsolved murder a mile down the road." She turned to Tom, exasperated. "I'm sorry, Tom. You must be aware of why I..."

**Juror 9 was** elected foreman and determined to get a conviction. He sat at the head of the table and looked up after counting the ballots. "Okay, people. We have to convince three there's no reasonable doubt here. This is child's play. He did it."

Juror 6, a woman in her fifties, raised her hand. "Getting in bed nude with a cheating husband doesn't make any sense. The defense theory that she was raped does. Maybe the boys or that postman did it. I don't trust that guy or that adulteress."

"There was no testimony that she was raped. We can't consider that," Juror 9 concluded.

Juror 11, a large elderly black man, rubbed his temple. "What about that kid's fingerprint on that jewelry box?"

"It was a partial print. That box was covered with prints. Defense witnesses are paid to get scumbag murderers off," Juror 9 said, raising his voice.

Juror 3, a young woman, raised a finger. "I have a problem with Paine not testifying."

"He didn't have to. We can't hold that against him." Juror 11 crossed his arms."

Juror 9 shook his head, irritated. "Guilty people don't testify. Lawyers won't let them lie to a jury because they always screw up. It's like an act from God. The cheating bastard killed his wife for her fortune. Well over a million bucks. We have motive, his confession to his lover and an eye witness to their last argument. What more do we need? Come on people. Help me convince the stubborn three."

**Tom Paine stood** next to Wool. The judge peered over his glasses. "The Court clearly feels that the Jury rendered the correct verdict. Therefore, the Court sentences you, Thomas Paine, to serve twenty-five years in the state penitentiary."

**Juror 9 sat** in a booth in the far corner of Coffee Shop.

Mario Mazella puffed on a Pall Mall as he strutted over to the booth. He sat down across from Juror 9. "Good job."

"Believe me, it wasn't easy."

Mario slid an envelope across the table. "It couldn't have been that bad."

Juror 9 placed the envelope inside his jacket and smiled at Mario. "Oh yeah, a couple of those fools thought the postman did it."

"You think I did it, don't you?" Mario asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know me, old buddy, I'm not paid to think or care."

"That's refreshing. I want the names of those inmates by the end of the week."

"What's the rush? He's not going anywhere."

"Payback executed pronto is a message heard the loudest. That notice is for rascals like you. You'd think twice before ratting to save yourself. Unless you're curious what your eyes and balls taste like. Those are just the appetizers."

### Payback

**Water sprayed from** the overhead nozzles inside the state penitentiary shower. Tom and nine men showered. Leon, black, extremely muscular, looked at several of the other men and tilted his head toward the exit. All but Tom, Leon, and two black men left.

"It ain't right messin' wit anotha man's wife, Arnie," Leon said to a taller black man.

"Yeah, Leon, it just ain't right."

Tom glanced at the three black men and started to walk toward the exit. Leon stepped in front of him and pushed him backward. "Not so fast, motha fucka."

Tom punched Leon in the throat and kicked Arnie in the groin. The third man landed a solid blow to the side of Tom's head. Outside the shower area two guards stood with their backs to the action, listening to the sounds of men punching, kicking, and bodies slamming against the walls and floor.

**Four men** sat in a couple of golf carts by a teeing area that overlooked a large water hazard. On the other side of the pond was a large green. Two men and two women, carrying putters, walked onto it. Ray sat behind the wheel of one of the golf carts. Mario sat on the passenger side, puffing on a Pall Mall. Ray turned to him. "A blind golfer challenged me to a golf match. I pick the course, he picks the time. I said, 'Sure, my course.' He says, 'Okay, tomorrow, midnight."

Mario laughed. "It happened last night. A broken nose and twenty stitches."

"Now give him a face even his mother would hate. Hot grease might do the trick."

**Winnie visited** Tom in prison. As she sat down across from him, Tom asked, "Did you come here to ease your conscience?"

"No, to warn you. Ray said you're about to become an ugly man."

Tom pointed at his bruised face. "Too late."

"No, that was just to get your attention. Be careful!"

"Why did you do it, Winnie? You're the only reason I'm in here."

"You know I had to."

"No, he wouldn't have killed you."

"He would have had you killed."

"It's safer out there. I would have killed his goon and him, if I had to."

"Sorry, I was worried about your safety."

"Liar! You were protecting your son. You know it. I know it. Ray framed me to protect Dave. I was set up...to protect your son.

"Dave didn't do it. Maybe it was your neighbor. That's why he lied."

"Your husband paid him off. When I get out I'll find out."

"I better not come here again. If he ever found out, I don't know what he would do next."

**A half-dozen of** large deep fryers were filled with boiling oil and chicken. Eight men, dressed in white, worked inside the State Penitentiary kitchen. A short black man placed a silver pan with a long black handle on the stove next to the deep fryers. Tom entered the room and walked up to a tall cook.

"I'm Paine. A guard sent me here."

The tall man pointed at a bag in front of the stove by a short man's feet. "Take that bag to the guard."

Tom strolled over to the bag and bent down to pick it up. Immediately the short man poured boiling oil over the left side of Tom's face.

### The Way They Were

**Twenty years passed by**. In a parole board hearing room, Tom, salt and pepper hair, sat and stared. One eye closed and half his face was badly scarred. His good eye twitched as he listened to an old lady.

"The petitioner's request for parole is denied," said the woman.

**Dave, thirty-six** , distinguished looking, and his secretary, Jan, exited the Capital building in Providence. Smartly dressed in a worsted wool sports jacket and tie, Dave descended the stairs quietly. Thinking over what he was about to say to his current lover. There were many flames but no truelove over the last two decades, nothing serious. Jan might have been his longest on and off relationship. It was time to end it permanently.

Jan was an attractive woman in her late twenties. Still shaken from a bawling-out she went down the steps by her boss's side without saying a word. She had promised Dave that Tom would be paroled after being assured by someone on the parole board there would be no problem. Since she had no idea what went wrong, all she could do was apologize. Dave, normally cool and calm, went ballistic. After the scolding he made several phone calls. The last one surprised Jan a great deal. He arranged to have an airline stewardess fired. She could guess who but couldn't understand why.

About ten feet from the stairway, Jan stopped and placed a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Is something else bothering you? You seemed so tense today. Even before that letdown."

Dave stood still, facing Jan. "Yeah, my conscience is troubling me."

"Do you want to tell me about it, tonight over dinner?"

"Sorry Jan. We're through. I plan on seeing her again, starting tonight."

"Why are you so infatuated with her?"

"I guess Cupid shot me with his arrow when I was ten and I can't remove it."

**Outside during a** prison yard fresh air break forty prisoners stood around in small groups chatting. Tom stood alone eyeing a fly buzzing around in front of his face. He grabbed it, slammed it to the ground and stepped on it.

Roger, tall, muscular, one ear, strolled up to Tom. "I heard. Ya can't catch a break."

"It's that wop and his kid, got to be. That murdering little fuck is a congressman now. They know I'll be looking them up when I get out."

"You'll end up in here again. It's not worth it."

"It's what I live for."

"What if the boys didn't do it?"

"Florence told me they did."

"You said she was dead when you got home."

"She was."

**Cookie in flight** attendant clothing strolled by the airport lounge. Dave jumped off a barstool and chased after her. "Cookie," he called out.

Cookie stopped and turned. "Hello, Dave. It's been awhile. You look good, as usual."

"It's been about ninety-nine weeks. You still look fantastic. I put on a few hundred pounds. May I buy you a drink?"

"Sure. I'd love a C C and ginger, Mr. Congressman."

Dave escorted Cookie to a booth inside the lounge. "I still think about you every

day. You haven't been returning my calls, lately. I miss our friendly chats."

"I've been so busy, but I'll have more free time now. I was just fired."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Have dinner with me tomorrow night, please?"

"Okay!"

Dave smiled. "Dancing afterwards?"

"We'll have to see about that later."

**Cookie entered her** small apartment. Linda, watching television, sat on a love seat with her feet on a coffee table.

"I ran into Dave at the airport," Cookie said as she approached her roommate. "I'm going out with him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll start dating him on a regular basis. He's still crazy about me and he's super rich."

"Money isn't everything. Think about it."

"I have. We talked for quite awhile. He said he arranged another parole hearing scheduled for tomorrow. He's pulled some strings and he's extremely confident my dad will be released shortly."

**Tom and Roger stood** away from the other prisoners, talking. "Be cool. Tell them what they want to hear. Don't blow it this time."

"I ought to add them fuckers to my payback list. I can only guess what changed their minds." Tom looked up at the sky. "Thank you, Florence!"

**Inside a fancy** restaurant Cookie held Dave's hand affectionately. "Thanks again. He's going to get out."

"Good. I'm happy for both of you."

"There's something wrong with him. Sometimes he scares me."

"Once he's out of that place, he'll change. We can help him, together." Dave stood, walked over to her and pulled a ring out of his pocket as he got on a knee. "Cookie, I adore you. I have since the day I first saw you. Will you marry me?" He showed her a diamond ring.

"Yes, I'll marry you." They embraced.

**A baby lay** screaming in a bassinet. Another baby about two, wearing only a diaper, ran around the house trailer. Seven-year-old Candy sat on a couch staring into a View Master. Lumpy, thinning hair sat at the kitchen table eating franks and beans. Rose, plump and unkempt, shouted at him. "Borrow from Dave. He's loaded."

"I owe him too much already. Try going to the bingo just twice a week," Lumpy shouted back as he arose from a cheap metal chair.

Rose, carrying a clean diaper, walked over to the screaming baby. "Someday I'll win the jackpot. Then we can move out of this dump."

Lumpy headed for the living room area and sat next to Candy. "Can I take a look?"

Candy nodded, handing him the View Master. Lumpy held the toy in front of eyes, viewing a large orange orangutan sitting in a cage. "That's grandma Mello, your mom's mother."

Candy took it back and peered into it. She giggled. "That's not grandma. It's a monkey."

Rose yelled at Lumpy. "Ya betta watch what ya tell her. It could get back to my mother."

"That was an orangutan, Candy." Lumpy glanced at his wristwatch. "Well, my cab's waiting. I gotta go to work." He kissed Candy on the cheek and then headed for the door.

Candy waved. "Goodbye daddy."

Rose handed Candy a five dollar bill. "I need you to run to Cumberland Farms."

**Candy skipped up** a residential street by manicured lawns, pink and red azaleas, purplish-blue and lavender-pink rhododendrons and Japanese maples.

Wanda sat on the steps in front of her house, noticing her classmate. She stood and ran over to Candy.

"Hi, Wanda. Wanna go with me to the store?"

"Okay."

The girls shuffled up the street. "My mom's making a cake for my mean grandmother. She needs eggs."

"Is she mean to you?" Wanda asked.

"Yes! She won't let me go in her living room. She says, 'That's for company.'"

The girls reached the top of the street and stepped onto the sidewalk that ran along the main street. Wanda said, "I'll race ya to the store."

"Okay," Candy said as she took off and stayed a yard ahead. She looked back at Wanda.

"You cheated," Wanda howled.

The girls raced down the sidewalk and across a side street. They continued to race down the footway. As Candy approached the next side street, she turned her head and smiled at Wanda. As Candy ran onto the asphalt there was a loud screeching sound of a moving car stopping suddenly. Candy turned. The car came to a complete stop just barely striking Candy. She was slammed down. The back of her head hit hard against the pavement.

**Lumpy and Rose sat** in front of a dark skinned doctor. Rose cried and shook uncontrollably. Lumpy, choked-up, barely said, "You said she was going to be okay."

The doctor had an Indian accent. "Yes, but there was extensive swelling of the brain. The pressure of her brain against her skull stopped the flow of blood to her brain. I'm sorry."

**Lumpy sat alone** on his sofa holding a picture of Candy. He stared at it while tears ran down his cheeks. He wept.

**Jimmy sat on** a bed inside a trailer. The Kiss of Death (1947) played on the television. Richard Widmark talked to an old woman sitting in a wheel chair. "You're worse than him, tellin' me he's comin' back. Ya lyin' old hag." Widmark took an extension cord and tied the woman to her wheel chair. He opened a door and pushed her out of the room. He giggled as he pushed her down a flight of stairs.

Jimmy stared at the television. He giggled like Widmark did until there was a loud knock on the door. In a deep voice, someone yelled out, "Ya ready, Jimmy?"

**Later that night** Jimmy and a young black man stood in a corn field. They pointed handguns at two men dressed in police uniforms. One officer, very tall, held his hands high in the air as he eyed Jimmy marching up to him.

"What's your name?' asked Jimmy.

"Ted," answered the man.

Jimmy moved his gun, slowly, from side-to-side. "You scared, Ted?"

Ted nodded.

"You should be. I heard of The Lindbergh Law."

"No! It's not what you think."

"Good bye, Ted." Jimmy shot the policeman in the face.

Ted fell to the ground.

The other police officer ran into deep the corn field, screaming, as Jimmy, giggling fired five more rounds into Ted.

"Cut, cut," the director yelled as he walked up to Jimmy. "Great job but not quite like Richard Widmark's laugh. Almost! Let's try it again."

### The Avenger

**Tom stood outside** the entrance to the State Penitentiary, scrutinizing Cookie and Dave advancing toward him. Cookie gave her father a big hug while he glared at Dave. When she finished, Dave extended his hand out.

Tom batted it away, asking Cookie, "Why's he here?"

"Dave is going to let you have one of his cottages in Oakland Beach."

"He must have a guilty conscience."

Very little was said during the trip to Tom's new home. Even inside the little ranch he didn't seem too thrilled as he examined the four furnished rooms. He didn't say a word. He thought only of Dave being so near and unprotected. Too bad his daughter was there. Otherwise he would have enjoyed carrying out retribution. As he stared icily at Dave, sitting at the small round wooden table, he imaged his hands around Dave's neck, holding him in the air.

"Dad, we're getting married Saturday."

Cookie's dreadful words woke him from his trance. Tom glared at Dave. "Florence talks to me. She told me what happened."

Dave and Cookie, confused, looked at each other.

"How you murdered her," yelled Tom, ripping an armrest off his chair. Whirling the oak support high in the air, he charged at Dave.

Startled, Dave lifted an arm to block a blow.

"Noooo!" howled Cookie. "Don't do it, Dad. Please! Mom's watching you."

Tom froze. "Sandra's watching too? Sandra?" Tom thought to himself. He looked down at Dave. His eye twitched. BAMM! He slammed the piece of wood hard against the table. "Later," grumbled Tom, tossing the armrest onto the floor. He stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I'm exasperated. Crushed! I anticipated a thank you, not a head bashing," whimpered Dave, holding a hand over his heart. "Mom's watching you?"

"Yeah, worth a try," Cookie muttered, wiping tears off her cheeks. "My mom wouldn't approve. Florence might. Let's go."

Dave looked at the closed door and waved. "Enjoy the Sentra. Ah, that's okay. You don't have to thank us. It's just a token of our affection, pleasant driving."

**On West Shore Road** a police car with its lights flashing followed a red Sentra. The Sentra pulled over. Two policemen got out of their car. One marched over to the driver's side. "Step out of the car, fuck face."

The door opened and Tom stepped out.

The cop grabbed Tom, spun him around and slammed him hard against the car. "Spread 'em." He frisked Tom and afterward stepped back. "Turn around."

Tom faced him.

"You ought to consider leaving Conimicut. Life could be difficult or short if you stick around," the cop warned.

"I don't live in Conimicut."

"I know where you live: two miles down the road. Find a place in Providence or Pawtucket. The farther away, the better."

"No, I like it here. My future son-in-law is a congressman. You want trouble?"

The cop pushed Tom back against the car. "His father doesn't want you here. I don't want you here. You'll be shot while resisting arrest. Get it?"

Tom turned red. He clinched his fists as his eye twitched.

The cop grinned. "Go ahead, fuck face. Take a shot. Get it over with."

"Are you through with me?"

"For now. Get out of my sight. I can't stand looking at you." The policeman watched as Tom got into his car and drove off.

Tom glanced at their reflection his rearview mirror. "I can handle them, Florence."

**Lumpy leaned against** the refrigerator, examining Rose pour water into a glass. She plopped a couple of pills into her mouth and gulped them down with the water.

Lumpy shook his head. "You've been taking too many pills."

Rose slurred her words. "They make waitin' to die a lot easier."

"They're dangerous."

"Oh, you know more than my doctor." Rose shouted, "Get off my back." She flung the glass into the sink. It shattered.

Lumpy, head down, shuffled out of the kitchen.

Rose, sensing someone looking at her, turned toward the window. She saw Tom's deformed face peeping in from outside the trailer. Rose screamed.

Lumpy ran into the kitchen. Rose hurried over to him and pointed. "A hideous looking man was looking in."

Lumpy dashed for the door and ran outside. He sped around the trailer. As he turned the corner, a fist hit his forehead, knocking him to the ground. Blurry eyed he saw Tom standing over him.

"Another time, another place." Tom strutted away.

Shaken and concerned about his family, Lumpy telephoned Dave. "We have to meet."

**Lumpy met with** Dave in his plush study surrounded by books and knotty pine. Dave had his hands in front of him on a table. "I'll hire a couple men to follow him around."

"I'm worried. I didn't call the police as a favor to you. I appreciate all you done."

"Look, we pick our friends, not our relatives. Tom's soon to be part of my family. I'm hoping he'll change, for Cookie's sake. May I fix you a drink?"

"Sure, C C and ginger. When's Jimmy flying in?"

"Friday. He'll meet us at the stag party."

"Is he still dating Rollergirl?"

"Who?"

"That young fox in Boogie Nights."

Dave pondered for a moment. "No, that was years ago. She dated half of Hollywood after him. Even that short guy in 'The Lost Boys'."

"The one who died from a drug overdose?"

"No, the one who played Frog."

"Really! Jimmy and that guy. She can't be too fussy."

### There Will Be Blood

**Red with a** cane limped along the along the beach. A huge scar running from the center of his forehead to his ear was partially covered by his red cap. From behind Tom placed a hand on his shoulder. Red turned. "You...scared...me." He had an obvious speech impediment caused by a brain injury. Tom's deformed face startled him. A look of disgust came over Red's face. "Wow! You're...ugly."

"Thanks. Do you remember me?" Tom waited patiently with a sardonic smile.

Red stared at Tom, a quizzical expression on his face. "No!"

"I'm Cookie's father. Do you remember Cookie?"

Red grinned. "Yeah, Cookie. I...saw...her teaties."

"You saw my wife's breasts too, didn't you?"

Red, confused, thought it over. "Wife?"

"The lady in the house. You know, before your accident."

"Dave said...I...can't tell anybody."

"Sure you can. Dave said it's okay, now."

"No sa. I'll...get...in trouble."

"Want to go on a boat ride?"

"Can I...steer...it?"

"Sure! You can be the captain."

"Oh, boy!"

**Red happily peered** through the windshield on a twenty-two foot runabout boat. Excited, he sat behind the small steering wheel having the time of his life on the ocean several miles from the bay entrance. Not a soul in sight.

Tom sat to his side, glaring at him and asking questions about the night his wife was murdered. He derived that Red had entered his house and knew what went on inside. Some things were unmentionable. Exploits he swore not to reveal. An undertaking so traumatic it caused Red to run out in front of a moving car that resulted in severe brain damage. A somewhat disability Tom and Red had in common.

"I read about it. Your brains were all over the street, God's way of punishing you." Tom turned off the motor and waited patiently for the vessel to stop moving forward. "Tell me what Jimmy said about the naked lady. I know he said something by the way you were grinning earlier."

Confused, Red mulled over the question, reminiscing about the woman standing in the doorway without any clothes on. He gave it a lot of thought. Slowly it came to him. "I...'member. He...wanted to ...hide his kielbasa."

Tom turned a bright red, his eye started to twitch and his constant head pain got worse. He reached into his pant's pocket and pulled out medication prescribed by a prison doctor. After taking more than he suppose to he led Red to the back of the boat, thinking over options. Only one stood out. What he dreamed about for years. Judgment Day for all involved in the rape and murder of his wife.

"You helped take my life away, you retarded bastard," screamed Tom, grabbing Red by the shirt and tossing him overboard.

Red landed in the ocean and splashed around a bit before going under, permanently.

Tom leaned over the edge of the boat, staring down. "You were right, Florence. They

all must pay for yesterday. When they were young."

**Lumpy scooped frozen** lemonade into twenty cups on a large tray. He carried the tray over to the shelf by the opening of his lemonade truck. Two nuns stood outside. One took the tray and carried it over to a group of smiling young children. The other nun asked Lumpy, "How much do we owe you?"

"Ten dollars."

The sign next to the opening read: Regular .75 Large 1.00. The nun observed the sign as she handed Lumpy a ten dollar bill. "Thank you. The Lord helps those who help the needy. You're very generous."

"Nah, I'm just takin' care of a good customer. I made a buck or two."

The nuns and children strolled toward a large brick building. A large sign in front read: Conimicut Orphanage.

Lumpy took five dollars from his wallet and rung up $15 on his cash register.

**That evening Lumpy** started his second job a little early. He intended on putting in a few hours, go home, take a quick shower and show up late at Dave's bachelor party. He sat behind the wheel of his yellow taxi parked by the curb, noticing the back door open. He turned and watched Tom sit down on the back seat, slamming the door.

"Take me to the Rocky Point amusement park," ordered Tom.

At the sight of Tom's face a chill went down Lumpy's spine. "Ya know that place closed years ago, don't ya?"

Tom grinned. "Gotcha! We're going there to play crossbows and arrows."

**Tom carried a** handgun as he walked several feet behind Lumpy. "This used to be the shore dinner hall. All the clam cakes, chowder, and watermelon ya can eat for less than four dollars. The good old days when ya didn't need too much money to have fun with your family."

"Mr. Paine, why are we here?"

"To play to tell the truth, but I'm no Bud Collyer." He pushed the gun against the back of Lumpy's head. "Simon sez, sit the fuck down."

After he tied Red to a wooden chair he said, "Time for fun and games."

Lumpy, hog-tied to the chair, stared up at Tom. "Are ya gonna tell me what you're gonna do?"

Tom stood by a crossbow mounted on a tripod. There was a small target next to the crossbow. A narrow rod went from the target to a release mechanism by the trigger of the crossbow. Tom imitated W.C. Fields. "In due time, my boy, in due time." Tom strolled across the room to another crossbow and target. "Tell me how you murdered Florence."

"You're crazy, man. I never been inside your house and didn't even see your wife the night of her death. My friends went into your house. They were out in less than five minutes."

Tom's one good eye twitched as he examined the crossbow. "Liar, liar, pants on fire. Keep it up and you'll be dead within the hour."

"I'm not lying. We were just gonna steal a jewelry box for Cookie."

Tom hurried over to a third crossbow and target. "I saw this great act in Las Vegas years before I went to prison." Tom examined the crossbow. "I dreamed of trying it with help from you or one of your friends. Funny, I remember some dreams and forgot so much." He sang, " _I'm so excited. I just can't hide it. I want to, I want to, I want to_ ," as he danced over to Lumpy and placed an apple on his head.

Lumpy shook his head. The apple fell to the floor. Tom slapped him hard across the face. "Be nice. Do that again and you won't live to regret it." He replaced the apple.

Tom picked up a bow and arrow off the floor. "I've tested this a few times. To be honest, it doesn't work every time."

"Mr. Paine. We didn't harm your wife. I swear to God."

"He's not listening. He probably died."

Tom aimed and shot the arrow. SWISH, THUMP. The arrow hit the target and the crossbow fired another arrow. SWISH, THUMP. Another crossbow fired. SWISH, THUMP. The third crossbow fired. SWISH, THUMP. The arrow went through the apple on Lumpy's head.

"How about that? Shall we try again?" Tom laid the bow on the floor and skipped over to a crossbow, singing, " _Some enchanted evening, I will kill a stranger_."

"Do ya want me to confess to something I didn't do?"

Tom, excited, skipped over to another crossbow and loaded it. "I want the truth, then I'll let you go. Scout's honor." He held up a middle finger.

"I told ya the truth, damn it."

"Very well. Time for Hell."

Tom reloaded and shot another arrow at a crossbow. The other three arrows fired, in order, as they did before, except the last one went through Lumpy's throat. Blood flowed from the wound and eventually out of his mouth as he coughed and gagged on the blood.

Tom stood and watched Lumpy die. His eye twitched. "Your friends will be joining you, shortly. Enjoy the heat. I hear it's mighty hot were you're going."

### Shameless

**A tape of Abba** singing, 'Dancing Queen' played. A naked woman danced in front of forty men. Four men carried a table onto the dance floor, placed it down and then walked away. The woman danced over to the table, jumped, turned, and landed butt first on top of the table. Ten men ran over and formed a line in front of her. The second man in line tucked a handkerchief down his shirt, just under his chin, like a bib.

Jimmy and Dave sat at a table watching the show. Jimmy lifted a glass off the table and took a sip. "Whiskey and ginger ale, I'll never forget the day."

"We were supposed to be a couple of bright kids. Why did we do something so stupid?"

"You were in love, my friend. I wanted to see some skin."

"I'm still in love with her, but at times I feel she doesn't even like me."

"Come on, I saw the looks she gave you since you were eleven."

"At first, then she acted like she didn't want anything to do with me."

"Well, now she's going to marry you." Jimmy finished his drink and showed the bartender two fingers. He scanned the hall. "Hey, where's Lumpy? Rotondo Rose wouldn't untie his leash?"

"She called me an hour ago, looking for him. Maybe he had to work a little late."

"I kind of miss my favorite Nazi."

"He's nothing like his father. Trust me." Dave glanced at a guy going down on the stripper. He shook his head. "Amazing! I can't believe those guys. One is a congressman. If word gets out, his political career might be over."

"Nah, more women will probable vote for him. Nothing wrong with getting your tongue wet. You oughta try it sometime."

"With a stripper? In public? No, thank you."

They both watched the waitress approach their table, but Jimmy noticed every eye-catching body movement. Dave's eyes were on her pretty face until he thanked her for the drink she placed down in front of him. As she sashayed away, Jimmy's eyes never left her swaying backside. "Women look fantastic coming and going. Damn if I know why they can still titillate me so much. I had so many."

"Maybe you ought to write a tell-all book. That time you nailed Heather sold a lot of tabloids."

"That time? My dick knew her like the palm of my hand. Tell me, after the wedding vows, you're off to....?"

"The Islands. We're flying out Sunday morning. What about you?"

"Florida. I'll be starting a new movie, Tuesday. I'll have to act like a good guy for a change - an astronaut. Maybe a Father Flanagan type role next. With a twist ending: Flanagan molested Whitey Marsh. Some of my fellow Jews love to bash you Christians."

**In a hotel bar** Tom sat in the booth where the lighting was poor. He stared at his drink, thinking about his next victim: Jimmy, the actor.

"How you doing, Tom?" asked Winnie as she sat down across from him.

"I'm dying."

"Are you serious?"

"Serious as a brain tumor. I don't want to talk about it." He touched her hands. "Thanks for coming, Winnie."

"It's nice to see you. You know I couldn't visit you. Ray would have found out."

"Winnie, come up to my room? No one will know. Just the two of us - like before. The good times I'll soon forget."

"Sorry, I have to go. Take this." Winnie handed Tom a long white envelope.

Tom peeked inside. "I don't need your money."

"Keep it, Tom. It's Ray's. Are you going to the wedding?"

"I better not. It's Cookie's big day. I don't want to spoil it. Come up to my room,

please? You owe me."

"I can't. I'm sure Cookie would love to see you at her wedding."

"Your husband and son will be there. I might bash their heads in." Tom stared blankly at Winnie. He appeared in a daze. " _I get excited, and I just can't help it, I might lose control and I think I'll like it._ "

Winnie stunned, slid out of the booth and stood. "Good bye, Tom." She hurried out of the barroom.

Tom took several steps away from the booth and stopped. His eye disappeared under its lid as he collapsed to the floor. His entire body jerked in all directions; he appeared to be in immense pain.

**All the pews** were filled. Dave, Jimmy, Cookie, Linda, and a minister stood in front of the altar. The minister said, "You may kiss the bride."

Dave kissed Cookie.

There were cheers and applause.

Out of sight, Tom stood in the far corner of the balcony, staring at Jimmy. A half-smile appeared on his face.

**Inside a library** Tom sat in front of a computer. IMDB.com was on the screen. Jimmy's face and credits appeared. Under Actor-filmography, the little hand clicked on The Challenger (preproduction). The Challenger appeared. Filming locations s clicked. Melbourne, Florida, USA, appeared. Then Yahoo.com., then Melbourne newspapers, then Floridatoday.com. Clicked life. Under entertainment headlines, 'Shooting of Challenger movie to start May 9th.

"Bingo!" Tom said, loud and clear.

The patrons gave him a dirty look.

Tom ignored them, jotting down information on a small brown notebook.

### Wild Things

**Jimmy and Zooey** , a young actress with long wavy dark hair, sat at a table on a patio by the beach. They were put at ease by the soothing surf sounds and beautiful view: the swaying palm trees, the ocean waves, and the full moon reflecting off the water. More satisfying was the cool breeze that blew across their bodies with that distinctive smell of the ocean. Jimmy closed his eyes, inhaling the clean air. He smiled and opened his eyes as he turned to Zooey. "You look a lot like Judy Resnik. She was a beautiful woman."

Zooey sipped her drink. "Thank you, but flattery will get you zilch."

"Great! I'm game. So, you named yours, too. I call mine Moby."

"Only on the set will our bodies touch. For that humiliation, I was paid nine million."

"Too old?"

"Too ugly."

"Damn! That's what my three wives thought, however, they married me. I only want to use your incredible body - for two - three minutes - tops."

"That's not going to happen. Not in this lifetime." She took another sip and then held up the glass. "Thanks, there's something about a free drink - it seems better."

"Like sex."

"And you would know. How accurate is the script? Did those engineers really warn them that it wasn't safe?"

"They warned that the rubber O'rings wouldn't provide adequate seals. The script is accurate except for the last four minutes."

"Oh, that scene is so sad. This should be a big hit."

"You never know. The leading man having an affair with a co-star always helps the box office."

Zooey looked at her watch. "It's after one. You need your beauty sleep." She looked at Jimmy and made a frown. "Nah, you would have to beat Rip Van Winkle's twenty year record."

"Ah, you're attracted to me. I can tell. By the end of the week you will discover the rumor about me is, in fact, true: that buzz similar to the gossip about Uncle Miltie."

Zooey laughed. "Only if you flash me. We better get going."

Jimmy escorted Zooey to her car. They hugged and she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting in. "Not bad! Maybe if I kept my eyes shut...nah, that will never work."

Jimmy shut the door. "See you tomorrow."

Zooey smiled and waved goodbye. She backed up and drove out of the parking lot.

Jimmy toddled over to his red jaguar and unlocked the door. Tom rushed up to him and placed the barrel of his gun against Jimmy's head. "We're going for a long ride."

**The jaguar traveled** along the highway that crosses southern Florida. Sawgrass growing over several feet high lined both sides of the highway. Jimmy drove. Tom rode shotgun.

"Gene Evans murdered your wife. Anybody with half a brain can see that."

"Only one eye with some brain issues, but the skinny from my dear departed. You will survive if you cut the jive."

"We were in her room, but we didn't touch her."

**D** **ark clouds** **loomed** over the skyline, covering the moon completely. It was a dark night. The four boys sauntered across the porch. Dave, Red, and Jimmy, carrying a silver three cell flashlight, entered the house while Lumpy stood guard outside.

It was pitch black inside. Jimmy pushed the on switch and moved the beam from the flashlight around the living room. It stopped on the staircase and the boys lagged quietly in that direction. Their hearts were racing. Dave and Jimmy ascended the stairs, tiptoeing to the top. Red remained at the bottom of the stairway.

The door was shut. Dave grabbed the knob as Jimmy illuminated parts of the surrounding walls and doorways. Delicately, engulfed with anxiety and fear, he turned the door-handle. Slowly the door opened, stopping once after a squeaking sound barely noticeable. They entered the bedroom. Almost immediately the light shown on a bureau covered with photos and a pink jewelry box like the one in the picture. Dave rushed over to it; Jimmy followed close behind.

Dave opened the box. The music played as he poured out the jewelry. He glanced at a photo of Cookie, missing her front teeth, in the arms of her mother, while closing the lid. He lifted the box with two hands and headed for the door. After taking two steps he stopped, gazing in absolute fear. The beam from Jimmy's flashlight was on a nude body pierced with numerous knife wounds. The box slipped out of his hand. There was a crash. 'Somewhere My Love' played.

The boys panicked and ran for the door.

" **That's the truth**."

"You killed Florence. When she came to me one night in a dream, she told me so."

"You believe what you want to believe. Let me hire a private investigator."

"I know about you. You're a slick con man."

"I play slick con men. I'm an actor, for crying out loud." Jimmy pondered for a moment. "It was you. You killed your wife. Why else won't you listen to reason? If the neighbor didn't do it, it had to be you. I know we didn't do it. You sick bastard. You erased it from your mind, didn't you?"

"If so, how would I know? Besides, you forgot about my eyewitness: Florence." Tom thought for a second or two. "Pull over, now," he yelled.

The jaguar pulled to the side of the road. The doors opened. Jimmy and Tom stepped out of the car. Jimmy dashed across the street and jumped over a four feet high metal fence. He landed face down in long sawgrass. A bullet went by his head. He crawled on his hands and knees deep into the tall sedge, some exceeding five feet in height. The razor sharp rows of teeth of the sedge cut into his arms. Beads of blood flowed down both of them.

Tom jogged up to the fence and glanced around the sea of sawgrass.

Jimmy got up. Bending down, he ran.

Tom put his hands on a post and jumped over the barrier intended to keep gators inside the marsh area. He landed on his feet and then moved slowly throw the sawgrass, looking around the area.

Jimmy, still bending, ran through the sawgrass, sedge cutting into his arms and face.

Tom stomped through the sawgrass, his head slowly turning from side-to-side.

Jimmy came out of the sawgrass onto marshland that runs along a canal. Huge alligators were laying along the bank on the other side of the narrow canal. Yellow cow lilies floated on top of the canal. Jimmy glanced at the alligators. "I know what you're thinking: ham dinner."A large alligator stared back at Jimmy.

Tom moved closer.

Jimmy hurried along the canal. A flock of white egrets rested on trees and in the grass along the canal. Jimmy came upon a body of water. He looked around before lying down behind a scrub surrounded by tall grass by the canal.

Tom stepped out of the sawgrass and scanned the area.

Jimmy lay still as he stared down the canal. Blood flowed down his face and arms. A grey coot, short thick beak, floated on the canal. Beyond the coot the eyes of an alligator just above the water moved toward Jimmy.

Jimmy turned his head and looked down the swampland.

Tom marched toward Jimmy.

A snake slithered by Jimmy's hand as blood ran down his face.

The alligator in the canal moved closer as Jimmy glanced down the swampland.

Tom strolled by the canal.

Jimmy turned his head toward the canal. A soft RUSTLING sound. Jimmy's eyes darted over his shoulder. Another alligator with his mouth wide open attacked Jimmy.

Tom stopped and stared.

Jimmy's head was in the alligator's mouth and his body swung from side-to-side.

Tom smiled as the alligator chomped down on Jimmy's body causing blood to gush up into the air. "Ouch! That had to hurt."

### Splitting Nines

**Dave, reading a** newspaper, sat under a canopy on the beach. He turned to Cookie on the chair next to him. "Jimmy's missing. It's been over a week now."

"You think it's my father?"

"I'm afraid so. Maybe I should go back."

"I'm goin' with ya."

"All right. We'll get a suite at Foxwoods until he's caught. I'll hire more men. We'll catch him and have him put away for his own good."

**Tom had to** dispose of Ray Disenzo as soon as possible. He wasn't concerned about Lumpy's body being found. He was buried in a safe spot, but his sudden disappearance and Jimmy's was a tell. Ray had to be concerned about his safety. So he had to be well guarded. So the best place to get him alone would have to be at his private country club. Tom knew that golf course well, that Ray played there every Sunday morning and, more important, Ray sliced the ball. He'll be waiting in the woods on the fourth, seventh, ninth, and several holes on the back if required.

Ray stopped his cart by the ninth tee. "I told her the way to my heart isn't through my stomach. That's too high. The key is good sex but more is better and too much is paramount." Ray and Mario went to their bags and pulled out their drivers. "Truthfully, at my age pussy is like air: no big deal unless you're not getting any."

They headed for the teeing area.

"As a kid I learned the best things in life are immoral and Santa was jolly because he knew where all the bad girls lived." Ray teed up as Mario and two other men watched.

Tom waited patiently as he did on holes four and seven. This time Ray's ball landed in the woods, just six feet away. "If he looks for it instead of playing his provisional," Tom thought, "he'll be stiff as his driver." Tom suffered from insanity, but he enjoyed it.

Ray's golf cart traveled down the center of the fairway, another cart was close behind. His cart turned right as the other turned left, crossing the fairway. The cart pulled up to the woods and stopped. Ray got out and took a couple of clubs out of his golf bag. "I'm going to take a quick look. Go ahead, don't worry about my ball." The cart drove away as Ray entered the woods.

Tom stood behind a tree watching him. He lifted a knife with a thick long blade to the side of his face as his prey moved closer. Ray spotted his ball. He hurried over to it and looked down. Tom ran up behind him and placed a hand over Ray's mouth. He pulled him deeper into the woods as he whispered, "Bodyguards that play golf. Where are they when you need them?"

Ray tried to escape. His eyes were wide open and darted all around. Tom pulled him behind a large tree and stopped. He stuck his knife slowly into the Ray's stomach. "I read that a stomach wound is very painful. Is it? Nod once for yes. You're not cooperating. Well, I gotta get goin'. I have to see an old neighbor about some lies about me."

Tom pulled Ray's head back and cut his throat.

**Cookie sat with** four people at a blackjack table. The minimum bet was twenty-five dollars.

Shortman, gray hair, strolled up to the table and sat next to Cookie. The dealer and the other players at the table gawk at the huge old man. "How's the table been?"

"Pretty good, Detective or are you retired."

Shortman put a green chip in the circle. "I still have one case to close."

"How did you find me?"

"That brilliant husband of yours told his staff he would be staying here if they had to contact him."

The dealer dealt a four and a seven to Shortman and a pair of nines to Cookie. The dealer's up card was a nine. Shortman put a green chip next his other chip. The dealer dealt him a king.

"Twenty-one," said the dealer, putting chips next to Shortman's chips.

Cookie placed a black chip next to her black chip. "Split 'em."

A player stared at her. "You don't split eighteen, lady," he bellowed in an angry tone.

The dealer just stared at Cookie, not dealing splitting the nines.

"It's my money, not his. Split 'em, please."

"Splitting nines," the dealer said as he separated the nines. He laid an ace on one and a jack on the other. Cookie moved her hand over the ace and nine.

"Staying on twenty," The dealer said.

Cookie moved her hand over the nine and jack.

"Staying on nineteen."

"You're lucky, Cookie," Shortman whispered into her ear. "A risky move."

"Splitting nines against the dealer's nine is the best play. Blackjack 101."

The dealer turned up his hole card, a ten. "Dealer has nineteen."

"Your father was going to separate a couple of nines, wasn't he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. How do you think Dave's fingerprint got on the jewelry box?"

"Ask him, Detective. Why are ya still investigating? A little too late if ya ask me."

"We have three missing persons and an old neighbor of yours concerned about his safety." Shortman waved his hand over the two cards in front of him. "Mr. Evans told us something we weren't aware of years ago."

Cookie took a hit on the jack and five in front of her. The dealer yelled out, "Busted!"

"You sent the boys into the house, didn't you? It was a set up."

"Really? Am I'm a suspect, too?"

"Mr. Evans saw you and a friend leave about nine that night. He didn't get

a good look at the other person, but I know who it was."

Cookie looked at the dealer's name tag. "Steven, would you be kind enough to get someone to tell this big guy to stop pestering me, please?"

The dealer yelled out, "Floor!"

### The Postman

**Gene Evans pushed** his cart down the pet food isle and stopped next to Linda standing by the kitty chow. He loaded his cart with dried and canned cat food.

Linda observed him. "Wow! You must be feeding an army of cats."

"Around 19, I guess."

Linda examined Gene's face and smiled. "I know you. I saw your picture in the newspaper. Wow, a celebrity!"

"Newspaper?" He deliberated. "That was many years ago."

"I remember. That picture of you with a crew cut and bow tie was so cute. My father always had a crew cut. It's so manly looking."

"Thank you. You have a good memory. I was just a witness in a murder case."

"Oh, you're modest. I like that in a man. May I buy you a drink?"

"I'll have a drink with you, but I insist on paying." Gene thought the attractive woman looked familiar. Thinking he probably saw her while delivering mail.

"It's a deal." She extended her hand out. "I'm Linda."

**Gene had a drink** with Linda and agreed to take her dancing that night. He was putting the cat food away when there were loud knocks on his door. After putting the chain latch in place he opened the door enough to peek outside. Immediately he was knocked backward by the door as the chain support ripped away from the framing.

Sean, a muscular man with a silver cap on a front tooth, entered his kitchen, followed by Mario. "Don't mind Silver Tooth, he's just eager to have a chat with you."

In the cat infested living room the three men took a seat.

"I heard the only way you could get into a woman's panties was to go through her laundry." Then Mario asked, "Did she catch you? That's why you killed her?"

"I never touched her."

"We know you did." Mario glanced at all the cats. "They remind me of a Bond character: Pussy Galore. You wanted a different kind of pussy that night – didn't you?"

"What if I did? That doesn't mean I killed her."

"I used to make it with Mrs. Paine. She laughed during sex no matter what she was reading. Is that why you killed her?"

Gene considered his options. Either one alone he could probable handle but two might be out of the question. More than likely they had weapons and would use them. While deep in thought, Sean got up and punched the side of his head. Gene heard a loud sound like a bridge collapsing and saw stars for a second.

"Does that refresh your memory?" Sean stood over Gene, prepared to strike again.

**Later, Sean sat** on a recliner, stroking a white cat. Gene, his face and forehead swollen, his shirt bloody, sat on his sofa. He stared at the large tape recorder on the coffee table in front of him. Mario, sitting by his side, said, "One more time. Get it right this time."

"I saw Florence, nude, sauntering across her porch. She put her hands on the rail, looked out at the bay and took a deep breath. She slowly let the air out and smiled. She glanced around the empty beach and brought her arms above her head and stretched. Then, keeping her legs in place, she turned her body to the right, then to her left toward me. She stopped and looked at me. I always admired her beauty. She waved and gave me friendly smile before going back inside." Gene glanced at Mario.

Mario nodded in approval. "Go on! You're doing fine. Just peachy!"

### Untouchable

**Gene continued.** "I thought her wave and smile was a come on. What else could it be? I went over and found her still nude sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. I said, 'I think you're beautiful'. She turned, saw me and asked, 'Whatta ya doing in my house?' I told her, 'I thought...you now...that...maybe. She laughed out loud. 'With you? Who in their right mind would want to fuck you?' I stood there, speechless and scared half to death.' 'What's the matter, pervert, one of your cats got ya tongue? Doesn't matter, I'm calling the cops.' she said as she went for the phone. I pleaded with her. 'Get an eyeful, asshole,' she hollered. When she started to dial I grabbed the phone and threw her on the bed. She screamed so I covered her mouth with a pillow. I didn't mean to kill her. I only wanted to keep her from yelling."

Mario turned off the tape recorder. "Good job and very convincing. Now, don't you feel better?"

Gene gave Mario a dirty look. "What are you going to do with that tape?"

"Don't worry. It's not for the police and don't you call them." Mario got up. "I guess we'll be going. Thanks! Ya don't have to show us the way out."

**Cookie advanced through** Roger Williams Park on a bright sunny day. She came across Linda on a bench facing the lake and sat down next to her. "Hello, stranger."

"Hi, prettier than me."

"Well, what did ya find out?"

"Notta. I'm seeing him again, tomorrow night. His house. We're gonna shoot some pool. We were going dancing tonight but he cancelled on me. A bumma!"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"You sound jealous."

"I am. He's such a hunk."

"He can touch the tip of his nose with his tongue. He told me so. Maybe I'll marry him."

"Go for it. He sounds like a classy guy."

**Gene, holding a** pool stick, stood by a 7' long pool table and eyeballed Linda shooting the nine-ball into the corner pocket. "Nice shot."

Linda chalked up the tip. "Thanks. Where was the daughter that night?"

"She left with some guy before nine. I never saw his face. A little guy with no class. He rubbed Cookie's butt when he walked with her. Why the interest?"

Linda shot the fourteen ball in the corner pocket. "Just curious. Why won't you tell

me what happened to your face?"

"I'd rather not. You know what they say about curiosity."

Linda held the cue by her side and glared at Gene. "Are you suggesting I'm a pussy cat and you might have to kill me after you told me?"

Gene shook his head. "No, no, please forgive me. Some very evil men did this to me. I don't want to say anything that might get you hurt. You mean a lot to me."

"How sweet. I like you too, Gene."

**From the beach** , Tom waited for Gene's guest to leave and the lights downstairs to go out before making his move. By the time the light went on in Gene's exercise room Tom reached a downstairs window. He removed a screen and climbed through.

Gene sat on his weight machine and pushed the handles in front of his chest out and back ten times. He stopped and took in a deep breath. A cat HISSED. Gene listened.

Tom held a handgun in front of his chest as he climbed the stairs.

An empty black wooden scabbard hung on the wall.

Tom stepped on the fourth step down from the top and stopped for a couple of seconds looking around in the dark. He put his foot onto the next step and then saw Gene step out of the darkness, holding his sword above his head in a classic Samurai pose.

Tom, imitating Sean Connery, said, "Just like a rapist to bring a sword to a gunfight." A cat brushed against his leg. He glanced down, a reflex, not thinking.

SWISH. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Tom's head bounced down the flight of wooden stairs. His headless body fell and slide down the staircase.

Tom's head stopped on the floor about nine feet away from the bottom step. A cat walked up to it and batted it with its paw. Tom's eye opened wide. It twitched.

**Dave and Cookie sat** in their spacious, luxurious living room. They looked tired and sad. Dave lifted a drink off the glass coffee table and took a sip. "The newspapers made him out to be a hero. He's responsible for all those deaths. He murdered Florence. Recently I heard him confess."

"You never told me that. When?"

"Last week. A guy who used to work for pop had a recording. He was looking for something in return, I guess. Maybe he even thought I'd have Evans killed. He was wrong thinking I might be like my dad."

"You can't let him get away with it."

"My hands are tied."

"He plans on blackmailing you. I got Linda to get close to him after he contacted the police. I knew he was up to something and had to find out."

"Let him try. I got nothing to hide."

"Politically, he could destroy you. That's why he came forward now instead of years ago. They have your fingerprint. That and him seeing you leave the house are enough to end you hope of being Senator."

"It's old news. It had no effect on my first election. I won by a landslide."

"He killed my father. You promised me justice."

"Yes, I'll do everything I can to see him brought to trial, but it appears to be self-defense."

"If ya love me, you'll hear my proposal."

"You know I adore you. Always have, but I'm not going to have somebody killed to prove it."

"Now, after my father went through Hell in prison. He chopped his head off, for Christ sake," Cookie yelled. "Sometimes ya have to stop being Mr. Nice Guy and do the right thing." She stormed out of the room.

### Pretty in Pink

**With a large pink** towel wrapped around her, Linda sat alone in a sauna. Wondering what was keeping her friend. Normally she was very punctual.

Cookie, wearing a white towel, entered the small room and sat down next to Cookie.

"How's your love life?" Cookie asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"He hasn't got close, believe me."

"A trip already? Good job."

"Yeah, I'm a born again. We're gonna celebrate at the Grand Canyon."

"Be careful."

"You know me, I'm always careful."

"So was my dad."

**Linda and Gene sat** at a table next a window overlooking the Grand Canyon. Gene looked around the restaurant. "I thought it would be crowded in here. Only two other couples."

"Most people eat lunch a little later. We have to drive to the Grandview trail. Then we'll have over a two mile hike." Linda peered out the window. "This is breathtaking. It

really is."

"It's almost as breathtaking as you."

"Well, thank you, Gene. You're so sweet."

"The first time you smiled at me when we met...you took my breath away. I felt the

same reaction when I first saw the Grand Canyon. Except when we met, my heart went wild. Before every date it races."

"We gotta get going, Romeo."

Gene picked up the bill and scanned it as Linda placed her steak knife onto the cloth napkin across her lap. She wrapped the knife and placed it into her handbag.

A blue Lincoln Town car traveled along the south rim of the canyon for a mile. It drove off the road and parked by a sign that read, 'GRANDVIEW TRAIL'. Gene and Linda stepped out of the car and headed for the narrow trail.

It was just a short walk to the first look out point, Horseshoe Mesa. They admired the breathtaking view. With a smile, Linda turned toward Gene, "Isn't that beautiful?"

"Not as beautiful as you, Linda." Gene went down on one knee. "Linda - will you marry me?"

Linda stared at Gene. She looked confused. Then she smiled. "Of course, I'll marry you."

They embraced. Gene kissed her on the lips.

She immediately broke loose from his hug. "Later. I want to walk the trail before it gets too late."

Gene and Linda walked near the top of the Grandview Trail. They stepped onto a flat white cliff that overlooked a very small section of the canyon.

Mario came out from behind a green bush by the edge of the cliff. "Hello, little buddy."

Sean, grinning, his silver tooth shining, stepped onto the trail, blocking an escape.

Gene glanced at the two men as Linda moved away from him. Gene turned to Linda. "You were in on this?"

Linda tilted her head to one side, pouting. "Sorry."

Gene jumped into the air and dropped kicked Mario in the chest. Mario went over the edge of the cliff SCREAMING. Gene landed on his feet, slipped and fell flat on his back near the edge. Sean hurried toward him. Gene rolled over on to his stomach and grabbed Sean's left leg with both hands. He got up on his knees and flipped Sean to the ground. He landed hard on his back. Gene grabbed Sean's other leg and stood upright. With all his strength dragged Sean across the cliff. He turned and whipped him toward the edge.

Sean grabbed at the flat rock surface with his fingers. His head went over the edge of the overhang. He looked down into the canyon and then at Gene. "Please."

Without hesitation Gene pushed him into the canyon. Sean SCREAMED.

Gene turned and glared at Linda. She stared back as she put her hand in her handbag. "Don't come near me."

Gene took a step toward her. "You set me up."

"I warned ya, don't come any closer."

"Those guys made me confess to killing my neighbor. I never touched that bitch."

Linda stabbed Gene in the throat with the steak knife. He brought a hand to his throat. Blood flowed between his fingers. He stared at Linda, watching her wiped off the handle of the knife with her shirt and then tossing it into the canyon.

Gene took a step closer to Linda. She turned and headed down the trail. He followed close behind, staggering. His shirt covered in blood. Linda stopped and turned. She watched Gene wobble in her direction. "Why don't ya sit down? I'll run for help."

Gene stumbled, holding his throat as he tried to talk. "I love you."

Linda stood still.

Gene took his hand away from his throat. Blood pumped out of the narrow slit. Suddenly he ran up to Linda, putting his hands around her throat. Linda's eyes opened wide. She grabbed his wrists. She tried to remove them. Gene gazed at her face and smiled. Linda kneed Gene. His knees bent slightly. With his hands still around Linda's neck, he fell forward. They fell to the ground, together. Gene landed on top. He lost his grip momentarily. Linda inhaled some air. Gene gripped her neck again as he straighten his arms. His blood flew onto Linda. She moved her head to the side, grabbing him between the legs. She squeezed hard. He winced as he let go and fell to the side. Linda quickly got on her feet. She looked down on Gene. The blood stopped flowing from his neck and his eyes remained open as if he was staring into space. He wasn't.

**Linda met with** two detectives. "I never saw them before. They wanted our money. Gene acted quickly. He kicked one off the cliff. When he got on his feet, the other guy stabbed him in the neck. That's when I pushed the silver tooth guy over the cliff."

"They're from Conimicut."

"Really. It's a small world."

The two detectives looked at Linda and then at each other.

**Linda stood with** the other passengers waiting for her luggage in the baggage area of the airport. Shortman approached her. Several of the other passengers, with their mouths wide open, looked up at Shortman. "How was your trip, Linda?"

Linda looked up at Shortman, smiled and pointed her finger. "You must be that giant everybody talks about."

"Whatever Cookie paid you, it wasn't worth it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Linda spotted her suitcase. "There it is. I gotta go. Nice talkin' to ya."

**Linda sat on** a white leather sofa next to her hostess, Cookie, sipping on a highball. She set her drink on the glass coffee table in front of them and asked, "Still no word on Jimmy?"

"Nothing," answered Cookie. "How breathtaking was the Grand Canyon?"

"Just gorges!"

"Funny! You still have that dark sense of humor."

"Yeah, perhaps I'll have a rich one soon."

Cookie turned to Dave entering the living room. "Dave set up a trust fund for Lumpy's children."

"That was nice of you, Dave." Linda smiled up at Dave who had stopped next to the table a few feet away.

"That's the least I could do." Dave handed Linda a photo of Jimmy and himself wearing Boy Scout uniforms and standing on a cliff overlooking the Grand Canyon.

"You were a good-looking boy, Dave, Jimmy, not too hot even in a uniform."

"Of all the lookout points and trails you picked Grandview. Why there?"

Linda turned to Cookie for aid and all she got was a half-smile. "From your photos it looked like a good place for an accident."

Dave glared at Cookie. "Are you insane - hiring my father's stooge and killing him there?" He pointed at the photo.

Cookie shrugged. "It didn't go as planned, sorry. It gets worse. Shortman called. He wants you and your lawyer to stop by the police station."

### Let's Make a Deal

**Shortman tossed a** manila folder onto a conference table. "That's what we have, Dave. If I turn everything over to the Feds, you're looking at the death penalty. Talk to me, Dave. Let me help you."

Attorney Shimmelman placed a hand on Dave's shoulder. "What do you want, Detective?"

"I want Cookie and Linda."

"No, I have nothing to say," said Dave, appearing angry.

"They're lovers, Dave. You're a bright guy. You had to notice."

Dave looked fiercely at Shortman.

"Cookie's father was going take her to another state, separating them. She thought she would get the money Florence had left her."

"I don't believe it."

"You know it's true. She took money from your account to pay Mario and Sean. I know you wouldn't do something so stupid. She was setting you up."

"You're telling us you don't believe he had anything to do with it." Shimmelman folded his arms across his chest.

"It's what a jury's going to believe that matters. It looks like you had your men killed Evans to keep him from testifying against you. Dave, Cookie married you for your money."

"How can he help?"

"By telling the truth. How Cookie got him to go into the house that night."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Detective Shortman. And, frankly, I don't think you have much of a conspiracy case."

"Off the record?" Shortman waited for Shimmelman to nod. "Linda is willing to testify against you for full immunity."

"Could you give us a few minutes alone?" asked Dave.

"Sure."

Shortman left the room and closed the door behind him.

"Make a deal. I'm not giving them my wife."

"Dave, think about it."

"I know what I'm doing. If I talk, Cookie will die. I'm sure of it. The Feds will execute her and Linda. Murder for hire. Multiple murders. They wouldn't have a chance. Make a deal."

**Dave and Shimmelman stood** in front of a judge in a packed courtroom. "Mr. Disenzo, you understand that you will serve at least twenty years in the state penitentiary?"

"I do, Your Honor."

**Cookie and Linda, drinking** Mai Tai cocktails, lay on lounge chairs under a canopy.

"Ya know Dave will probably be out in ten years," said Cookie.

"Then divorce him in nine. Our plans seem to work out, but not the way we planned them."

"Our plans? You planned everything from the beginning."

### Monsters

**The two teenage** girls stood behind the closed door in Cookie's room. They listened to Florence shouting at Gene, "Well, you thought wrong. Get out of my room before I call the police." Moments later they heard the sounds of Gene running down the stairs.

"He's gone. Let's do it," whispered Linda. "She deserves to die. And think of all that money she left you in her will. You earned all of it."

"I changed my mind. I can't do it."

"Come on. The boys will be here in an hour. Do you want to move to Georgia? All ya have to do is hold her down. I'll do the rest."

**Florence sat in** front of a mirror brushing her hair.

Cookie entered the room. "I'm sorry about the other day."

Florence put the brush down, stood and moseyed over to Cookie. "Where's your lover?"

"She went home."

Florence stood in front of Cookie and stroked her hair. "You're the only reason I stayed with him this long," She gave Cookie a quick kiss on the lips. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. I don't feel guilty about it any more."

"You're so beautiful. Your dad actually thought I was interested in him."

"I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. Probably wouldn't have believed me anyway."

Florence embraced Cookie. They kissed passionately before getting into bed.

In bed, Florence fondled and kissed Cookie hot and heavy, with her eyes closed as Linda silently crept into the room. She moved slowly toward the bed. When she got next to it, Florence stopped kissing Cookie and glared up at Linda. "What! Do you want to make it a threesome? No problem!"

Cookie got on top of Florence, holding her arms down.

Linda grabbed a pillow and placed it over Florence's face. She brought her face close to the pillow. "I don't think they'll be any little girls where you're going."

Florence struggled as Linda pressed down with all her strength.

" **I've always felt** guilty about setting Dave up," Cookie said. She sipped her Mai Tai.

"We knew his father would get him off. I thought for sure they would pin it on that creepy neighbor, especially after he entered her bedroom. I didn't think there would be any problem after that."

"Well, they didn't blame it on The Peeper. Look what happened. My father's dead and it's your fault."

"My fault? Hey, Beatrice, that lying pedophile deserved to die."

"Don't call me that. I hate that name and you know it. My father must have too. That's why he always called me Cookie." Cookie took a moment to think things over. "You hounded me until I agreed with ya."

"If she hadn't willed you all that money, you probably wouldn't have gone along with the plan. Don't blame me, dear. You're greedy. That's the only reason you married Dave."

"I'm sorry. If I had told my father, he probably would have killed her, himself." Cookie grabbed Linda's hand. "Your tan makes you look even more beautiful. You're definitely a ten."

"Thanks, but I'm still a nine. We're just a couple of wealthy nines."

They looked at each other and then kissed.

Standing by two large islanders, Winnie witnessed the girls kissing. "Take your time. Make them wish they were never born."

