I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (19 page)

At 1:30 Saturday afternoon during a competitive pool game of ‘stripes and solids’ with Don Chace in his basement rec room, Chief Devaro got the call from Carrie, right on time, with the identification facts on her Monday night client.

“Okay kiddo”, responded the chief, “just stay cool and relax. We’re depending on you and we have you covered.  We will be on top of every movement that occurs around you at that time.  If we suspect any danger to you we will eliminate it.  The next time we speak will be either the day after, if nothing happens, or otherwise, right away after you leave that night.  We’ll take it from there.”

“Okay” was Carrie’s seemingly calm answer.  The chief wanted Carrie to feel safe but he needed her to be unsuspecting about Don Chace being substituted for the client until she arrived at the house the night of the sting.

During the phone call from Carrie the chief had noted the name and address of Carrie’s client on a note pad.

“Here we go, Don, he said as he handed Chace the note.

“Great, this is going to make things a little easier,” Chace exclaimed.  “This guy is from Fairlawn.  My buddy can set up to monitor his movements over the next two days and arrange a tail to track him when he comes here on Monday night.”

“Good!” the chief said excitedly, “Game on! Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m going to call in sick tomorrow because I don’t want to run into the media hounds just yet. I’ll call Salvadore and make sure he’s covering the carnival set-up in the town square.”

With the mutual decision to suspend the pool game until a more relaxed time, Chace was getting his things together to leave when Chief Devaro stopped him.

“Don, you’re going to be carrying the ball on this play”, he said. “If what we want to happen does
happen, we’re going to have to watch ourselves. Although the signs at the homicide sites indicate the killer is working alone, we can’t be sure of that. We don’t know what types of weapons are used, if any.” Chace interrupted the chief at that point.

“I contacted our equipment specialist at the main barracks”, he said. “I’m going up there tomorrow morning and have him fit me with some sort of neck brace that won’t be visible. I’ll have the Kevlar vest and crotch shield on as well. I’ll be packing my service automatic plus a back-up.” The chief nodded.

“Okay, Don. I think the neck brace is most important. All three cases show heavy neck blows. Brush up on your Marshall Arts defense drills, too”, he said earnestly, as he looked Chace in the eye. “I won’t be close-up enough to help from down the hallway, besides, I’m a little beyond my top-form to be very effective, if you know what I mean. What I will do, though, is carry enough firepower to hold off a small army. At least I can still put a round on a dime at twenty paces if I have to.

The two veteran lawmen bumped fists for luck, and Inspector Chace left to complete the arrangements with his connection in Greenville.

Carrie was groggy when she awoke on Saturday morning.  The sleep medication dose she had taken the night before hadn’t quite worn off. As she made herself a strong two cups of coffee and drank one with her toasted wheat bread and jam breakfast, reality became more acute. She was feeling the heavy weight of depression setting in.  She had been doing some soul searching over the last week and her past was starting to haunt her.

A major change in her life was about to occur.  The possible results were unclear and thoughts of a future were clouded by self-doubt and unknown consequences. 
For God’s sake,
w
hy are people who pay for my sessions getting killed? Carrie
wondered with dread.
Tears welled up in her eyes and her throat contracted with an audible sob.

She was going to be leaning completely on the assurances by Chief Devaro to be cleared of any wrongdoing, after the fact.  All she had was a hope that she could survive and get the opportunity to begin a new life.

Preventing the cancellation of her student visa would be tough to pull off, she reasoned, but if she could bargain for that in her agreement to turn state witness against Francine’s operation, it seemed possible.

Instead of being sent back to England, she would rather apply for U.S. citizenship.

“
Is it really possible, or am I forcing the positive thoughts just to keep from sinking into a deep, dark hole?”
Carrie asked herself.  She realized that she had to snap out of her depressed mood.
Self -pity is not my thing,
she thought decisively.

Carrie flipped her hair back and wiped the tears on the arm of her robe.  She jumped up and went to the medicine cabinet.  She pulled out all of the sleeping pills, and some other feel-good pills, and emptied them into the toilet.  Carrie flushed it three times to convince herself that she had some control of her destiny. 
I need somebody who simply accepts me for who I am, s
he thought, somewhat desperately. 

She wondered about her mother and father and whether they were still in their home back in Liverpool, England.  She had not contacted them for a long time, but she needed someone that wouldn’t make demands on her or try to control her.  She reminded herself that most of those here in America, her managers, employers, who were actually pimps, only cared for the money they could make by selling her.

Her fellow prostitutes were mostly walking, talking, zombies, with their brains turned off.  There was one exception among her past acquaintances. Thoughts of Bruce Grover entered her rambling mind.

Around that time on Saturday Max and Maggie were on the road, heading north to Sturbridge Village, Massachusetts, a favorite tourism stopover.  It was a restored, working mock-up, of an early American settlement.

The anxious twosome were in the mood to get away from the turmoil for a day and spend some time amid a display of times past, when life seemed to be simpler.

They knew, in reality though, that life was actually much more perilous then, and humans dealing with other humans had never been simple. The old days just presented a different set of problems to deal with.

While driving north on Interstate Route 91, the conversation was more concentrated on the future. Both Max and Maggie had spent much of their adult lives dealing with real estate, in one way or another, and both were considered experts in their professions. Logically their future careers would continue in that direction.

They both had, however, indirectly and perhaps unconsciously, experienced an inclination, of late, toward a more adventurous lifestyle. But they were both practical and fiscally conservative and without any undue influence, each of them would most likely avoid any rash decisions concerning change.

Jokingly, when talking about themselves, they referred to their mode of existence as the “Don’t-fix-what-ain’t-broke” philosophy.

The current events they were caught up in, however, were introducing that “undue influence” part of the equation into their lives.  This might be the time to make the move to another chapter.

“With the real estate world and the financial investment world becoming more and more tied together,” proposed Max, “what would you think about being a Regional Northeast Real Estate Financial Consultant?”  Maggie was a little surprised at that suggestion from Max.  She wasn’t sure if he meant just her, or her and him.

“How would that work?” she asked.

“It would function as a closed partnership”, Max responded, indicating the both of them.  “Are you serious?” she asked.

“Absolutely, just as long as I run the whole show”, Max quipped with a big smile.

“You’re an ass!” Maggie responded, as she slapped him on the shoulder.  The car swerved slightly.

“Whoa, don’t get physical while we’re doing seventy on the freeway”, Max said with faked alarm.

“Well, I never seem to know when you’re serious or not”, Maggie said, trying to compensate for her impulsive reaction. “Here I am trying to process something you spring on me out of the blue, and then you give me a smart-ass answer.” Max didn’t respond.  He gave her sideways glance with the hint of a twinkle in his eye and just kept on driving.

“Actually I am serious”, Max said after a while, “but I like to tease the ones I like.” With that he squeezed her kneecap in a knuckle grip right in a sensitive spot.

“Yow” she yelled, that’s not teasing, that hurts!”

“Oops, sorry”, Max apologized, knowing that it really didn’t. “I’ll have to make it up to you later.”

“Make sure you do”, Maggie ordered in a fake pout.

Late that afternoon, Bruce Glover answered a call on his cell phone while he was returning to his apartment with a load of mulch for the shrubbery.  There was silence, and then a disconnect-buzz.  “
What the fuck!
…
Somebody is playing games”,
he said to himself, with his natural lack of finesse.  He glanced to check the caller but it was a blocked number. 
That figures,
he thought scornfully. 

About twenty minutes later, after he had off-loaded the mulch bags, the cell phone rang again.  “Hi Bruce, its Carrie” came the quiet voice from the other end of the call.

Bruce was stunned. He was warm from the unloading process, but now he felt himself steaming hot.  He started to sweat profusely.

“Hi Carrie, are you okay?” he asked, without tact as usual.  She responded in the affirmative and they went back and forth talking all around the obvious division between them, her abrupt departure from his apartment weeks before.

“I’ve got to go now Bruce,” she said
firmly, “Hey, are you going to the carnival at the town center tomorrow afternoon?” she asked. He stammered that he hadn’t planned on it, but then blurted out that he would go if she was going to be there.

“Those carnival people can be rough,” he lectured, “but I’ll keep an eye on them for you.” Without understanding what that meant, Carrie agreed to meet at the carnival at two o’clock, Sunday.

Bruce was mesmerized, he hadn’t expected this turn of events.  He spent the rest of the evening wondering why she had called, and then, why she had to end their conversation, and where she might be.  He was invigorated and ultra-anxious at the same time.
It was always this way with Carrie,
he mused.

The day was bright and warm.  It was Sunday and, in East Wayford, those who regularly attended their church services were involved in doing so.  By late morning most services were finished and many local residents were brunching at their favorite eateries.  Others had changed out of their Sunday clothes and dressed down into the appropriate outfits in which to go to the carnival in the town square.

By 11:30, it appeared, to those who knew, that three quarters of the town residents were in attendance.  Mayor VanDyke and the town council members had set up chairs on the band-stand and the councilors were taking turns giving a narrative relating to the establishment of East Wayford as a settlement, which followed the American Colonies’ victorious war for independence from England.

Following that the Mayor and council members worked through the crowd while all awaited the noon starting time for the carnival.  There was an election not too far off, after all.

The carnival crew came to the ticket gate area and, after a few minutes of arrangements, the rope at the gate was lowered and the crowd filed through.  New moms and dads were pushing their toddlers in strollers while the pre-teens and teens ran for their favorite game booths and carnival rides.  Townsfolk were greeting each other, in some cases for the first time since the winter season.

Carl Jenson, and Mrs. Jenson, a popular couple, found a seemingly endless line of acquaintances with whom to chat.

Francine Stanley had set up a booth displaying a large assortment of free cookies and cupcakes.  Paper napkins printed with red white and blue skyrockets, plus the Stanley Realty logo, were stacked alongside a box of her business cards.

Mayor VanDyke was one of her most frequent customers for the cookies.

“Did you bake all these goodies yourselph [yourself]?” he asked Francine, with his distinctive vocalization.

“Yes, I did”, she answered. “I’ve found that one good way to get people to remember you is to have them associate you with fresh-baked, free cookies.”

Gene VanDyke gave her an understanding nod as he made a mental note, thinking of future political campaigning.

As an attorney, he had done title searches and had presided over several sales closings involving her real estate brokerage.

“I haven’t seen your ‘Gal Friday’, Maggie, is she here today?” he asked, for the sake of conversation.  Francine said she hadn’t seen her since Friday morning.

“She’s top notch at what she does”, commented the Mayor.

“That’s true.” Francine agreed.

Jerry Pippin was making a rare public, social appearance at the East Wayford July 4th Carnival, accompanied by his lady friend from Bridgeport.  They brought her two youngest children for some fun on this rare day off for Jerry.

“Hey, hey, the gang’s all here”, said a voice from behind them.  Bruce Grover was walking toward them along with Carrie Slavonic.

“Hey mate”, Jerry said, “you’ve got a day off too, eh?” 
Jesus, has he got a buzz on or something?
Jerry thought of Grover. Usually he would be skulking around trying to avoid conversations while in public.

“Yeah, you know Carrie don’t you? Bruce asked, completely ignoring Jerry’s companion.  “This is Stephanie”, Jerry interrupted, ignoring Bruce’s rudeness. “Steph, this is Carrie and her friend Bruce.”

Carrie was uncomfortable wearing jeans and a tee shirt. She didn’t expect to be introduced to anyone.  After exchanging hellos, Carrie excused herself and started walking back to her car. Surprised, Bruce bid a quick “Catch you later”, and trotted to catch up with Carrie.

“What’s the problem?” he asked as they strode toward the parking area.

“I haven’t been feeling that great”, she responded, “I guess I’m not ready to be social.”  Bruce was stymied. He didn’t know what to say without prying, and possibly ruining the day.

“Well, she’s a real good-looking girl.” Stephanie remarked to Jerry, as they watched the couple walk away. “He doesn’t seem her type.”

“You’re right, he’s not”, Jerry answered. “She’s really dressed-down compared to the way she usually dresses. Today she looks like a big-boobies country gal from a comic strip. Not that there’s anything wrong with that”, he quipped, obviously referencing her generous bosom.

“You guys are all alike”, Stephanie said, laughing.

Acting-Temporary-Chief of Police’ Lieutenant Salvadore was sitting in an unmarked cruiser two blocks from the town square.  He had two patrolmen on foot walking the perimeter of the carnival. They were watching for any troublemakers, pickpockets, etc. and also watching for any suspicious characters lurking about.  Salvadore was certain that the perpetrator[s] of the homicides was of the covert, night-stalker type and this daytime public setting didn’t fit the method of operation, but he wanted to present a public show of concern. 
Screw the budget,
the inexperienced, naïve, temporary chief thought.

Having spent the previous day leisurely strolling through a simulated colonial era village of assorted re-created buildings and displays, Max and Maggie had enjoyed supper at the a quaint motor-inn , located approximately sixteen miles to the east.  The cocktails and the food had been good and a jazz quartet had provided some quality background music.  The time was growing late when they had finished.

They had asked the maître-d to check for a vacancy at the inn and, since there was a room available, they had decided on an unscheduled stay over.

“The highway will be a safer drive for travelers tonight”, Maggie had suggested through her after hours smile.

“I’ll drink to that”, Max had responded, hoisting his Irish-coffee nightcap in a toast to the enjoyable, relaxing evening.

Late on this Sunday morning, after checking out of the inn, Maggie and Max detoured through Mystic, CT on their way back to East Wayford. They enjoyed a late afternoon meal at their new-favorite riverfront restaurant near the whaling museum, before driving back to Max’s place, where Maggie had left her car Saturday morning.

It was after 7 o’clock Sunday evening by the time they arrived back at Max’s apartment building.  They bid each other adieu and, as she was transferring from Max’s car to her own, a clanking sound and loud muffler noise signaled Bruce Grover’s hasty exit from the apartment parking area in his beat-up truck, heading south.

“I wouldn’t go far at night driving that heap”, Maggie stated.

“He probably ran out of booze”, Max said with a critical tone. “He’ll try to find a liquor store that’s open, I’d guess.”

East Wayford Police Chief Lou Devaro and his wife had spent Sunday enjoying a neighborhood cookout at the home of a next door neighbor.  Lou and Rose joined the neighbors, along with a third couple from the neighborhood, as they had done multiple times over several years.

The trio of neighborhood couples shared a common distinction. None of them had children. They had all lived in their respective homes for more than fifteen years and were perfectly comfortable in that location.

Lou and Rose hadn’t traveled that often but the other two couples had vacationed around the globe, sometimes together.  They considered it an off-setting benefit of having no children.

Although the travelers were middle-income employees, they had no cars to buy for offspring, no exorbitant insurance costs and no college expenses which couples with children incurred. As a result they were able to bank substantial wealth by late-middle ages.

Lou didn’t mind the life style he and Rose enjoyed, however.  He had seen a bit of the world during his days in the military, and he had no curiosity as to how other people lived. He had witnessed humanity at its worse, during his stint in the US Army Military Police, and as he worked his way up from patrolman to Police Chief in public service.

Rose had always been interested in far off places and sights but she was extremely paranoid of both flying and shipboard travel.  She was different from the others in that she had always wanted children but she was unable to conceive a baby.

Rose was always interested, however, in hearing from the other two couples about their travel adventures and had accumulated a substantial mental library of worldly information from the stories, pictures and videos presented whenever the travelers returned home.

Lou enjoyed the low key, non-competitive socializing with them, thus, Rose and he were the other couples’ favorite audience.  This Sunday cookout was no exception.  One couple had just returned from an Alaskan tour which was extensively videotaped from air and sea.

Later in the evening, at home, Rose posed a rare question to Lou.

“Is everything going okay at work?” she asked.

“Why do you ask?” Lou responded to a question with a question.

“I know you Lou”, she went on. “I can see that something heavy is weighing on you, and I’m concerned.”  Lou hesitated.

“Well, I realize that you’ve conditioned yourself to being a law officer’s wife, ‘Rosie,’ and I respect you for that. I know it’s not easy”, he said tenderly, using his pet name for his wife.

“You do have a right to know that our life may take some twists and turns soon.  I am involved in doing something that would be considered very amateurish, in the police handbook, but my back is against the wall.”  Rose was becoming alarmed. 

“What, what are you doing Lou?” she wanted to know. Her voice was rising and her face was becoming flushed.

“Calm down now, just hear me out”, he said sternly.  “It might be time to retire. I’m rolling the dice on this matter of the serial killings to see if I can flush out the reason behind it. If it doesn’t work, the media will crucify my methods. If it works, I could still be up for criticism for using unorthodox police procedures.  We’re okay financially and I’m going to be protecting myself physically, so we might be living a leisurely life of bliss in retirement before too long. You should prepare yourself for that.”  Rose composed herself.

“I have all the faith in the world in you”, she said. “Maybe it’s time to do a little sightseeing after all.”

Lou was somewhat relieved to hear that from Rose.  He was glad that she had asked and he knew that she would keep what he told her confidential.