Recall to Arms

by Frank Perry

“Cindy.”

  Cindy claimed to be an office manager in New York City, who only came to Atlantic City on weekends. To her, this wasn’t whoring, since it wasn’t her main line of work, and she was particular about the men she serviced. She said affection had to be real before she would submit.

  Eric met Cindy Saturday night on his first gambling trip. He had not played well, and went to the bar to pout. He was only there a few minutes before she asked if he was alone. She sat next to him starting a casual conversation, and he was joyous over his incredible luck meeting a lovely young woman so easily. She was more straightforward than other women and asked him to buy her a drink, which the bartender had already poured. It was her overt nature that Eric liked initially about Cindy. It was business to her, and no commitments were expected.

  Cindy looked more provocative than beautiful. She wore a leather miniskirt, displaying her long thin legs. Her raven hair fell straight down her back with bangs helping to shape her oval features. She was striking, and attracted the eye of every man in view. She oozed sex.

  They engaged in small talk for several minutes, enough time for Cindy to gauge his income and temperament. After her drink was done, she suggested that they go to his room for some “recreation.” Eric downed his whiskey and signed the bill charging the drinks to his room, with shaking hands. As they passed through the slot machines, people stared. Eric enjoyed the attention they created together, even if it was purely professional. Conversation was light and pointless.

  When they got to his floor, he started rationalizing the fact that he was with a hooker. When they got to his door and he was attempting to swipe the key, Cindy snuggled behind him with her breasts brushing along his back. It took two tries to open the door. Once inside, she moved ahead of Eric and placed her purse on the bed saying, “Okay Eric, I need to explain the business side. I’m here for your sexual pleasure. I can do anything you like, and can try some things that could be new to you. I charge two hundred dollars for thirty minutes. If you want me to stay longer, my fee is two hundred for each increment. I only take cash.”

  He responded, “I don’t think money is a problem. When do we start?”

  It was apparent to her that he was inexperienced. “First, I’ll use your bathroom to freshen up. Sometimes I shower, but only if you want me to spend the extra time. Then, we can go to the bed and start to play. If you want to disrobe at any time, that’s up to you, we’ll use a condom. Okay?”

  He was so aroused by her candor that he could only shake his head as she began pulling her top off. She moved with a hint of coyness. She faced away from him while removing her bra, again feigning modesty. From his angle, he could see that her breasts were full.

  Her skirt fell to the floor and she was wearing a burgundy thong with a small teddy bear tattoo on her left butt. She was unusually tall with athletic legs. She slowly removed her underwear, glancing at him with an impish smile. He was thoroughly aroused.

  After folding everything on the chair, she walked past him into the bathroom. He remained motionless. As he watched her go by, he dropped his pants and shorts before removing his shirt. Oddly, he was conflicted about removing his socks. After a moment, he hopped from one foot to the other until completely naked. He felt awkward walking around, especially with a woman in his bath.

  When she came out of the bath, Eric was helpless. Cindy took charge for the next hour. He was fully satisfied with the service. When he was completely exhausted, Cindy stood by the bed and then went back to the bathroom. Two minutes later she was dressing.

  “You know Eric; you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

  Eric was flattered, “Wow, you really are special; I want to be with you again, often. How can we get together next time I’m in town? I plan to come next weekend.”

  “Well, that’s easy, here’s my card.” Reaching into her purse, she presented a tasteful business card with her phone number. “If you call me, we can schedule our rendezvous. I’ll work around anything to be with you, if I can.”

  Eric looked at the card and planned to enter her number in his iPhone immediately. “Okay, ah, how much do I owe you?”

  “Well, it’s been over an hour, so it’s six hundred, as explained. Of course we can work off the rest of the second hour if you’re ready.”

  “You know, I’ll need to work out more to keep up with you. I’d be dead if we continued.” Rolling naked off the bed, he went to his pants and opened his wallet. “Listen, I will call. You’re fantastic. Here’s seven hundred. I loved every minute of this.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you, I’ll be expecting to see you next week.” With that, she gave him a smile and walked to the door, letting herself out.

  For the next four weeks, Eric and Cindy repeated the process, with him becoming more adventurous each time. He found himself dreaming about her most days, and even considered proposing.

  He was dreaming of last night with her during the ride home. The drive to Cary was familiar; he had taken this same excursion five times in the past six weeks. The twists, turns and railroad crossings were all in sequence and hardly disturbed his rest. As they entered Cary Township, the car turned off of US Route 14 and wound through a sequence of short streets reaching Country Club Road. His rest was about to end. The road to the club was narrow and unlit with gentle turns following the course of the river. It was less than a half-mile to Eric’s house.

  Traveling along the dark frontage road, he felt the car slowing then rumble as the right side tires left the pavement. They had not reached his house. He opened his eyes but it was dark. The headlights were off and the driver wasn’t moving. While still disoriented, the rear door jerked open and an unseen man reached inside, pulling Eric roughly through the doorframe. He was unable to get footing in the gravel as he was thrust clear of the car. He saw the brute briefly before his door was shut and the interior lights went out. What he saw terrified him.

  Eric was average height and worked out. He weighed 160 pounds. The man outside was older and had the bulk of a linebacker. Apprehension turned to panic when the driver appeared. Both men were facing him, but he could not see their faces in the shadows. They said something foreign as the first man reached into his coat. Terror overtook Eric and he bolted. He charged through the brush and small trees. He heard a loud bang, then another, as he tore forward, with his hands flailing, through the native growth. Rage carried him through the undergrowth toward the open space of a fairway. He heard more shots, but was gaining distance from his attackers. On the fairway, he had a running path to the trees beyond. His eyes were adjusting to moonlight conditions and he could see beyond the trees into another fairway. Physical conditioning gave him an advantage running from his older pursuers.

  After reaching the fairway, his head began to feel light and vague. Searing pain was growing in his back and it felt like a hot rod was sticking through him. His chest was warm and damp. I’m shot! The first bullet had not missed; it had gone through him. Air and blood was escaping in spurts out of his chest. He clawed toward the trees. The world began swirling and he finally went down hard on the ground. He felt strangely awkward and could not push up on his hands and knees. He tried to crawl. Then there was nothing.

  Search Warrant

  After getting the search warrant, Luke and Angela coordinated with the Cary police to investigate Curran’s house. It was late morning before they arrived in Cary. Along Country Club Road, most of the vacant property was covered with native prairie growth until they passed the club parking lot, where a row of cottages began. Curran had been shot less than half a mile away from his house. Angela was also planning to interview the witness who lived in the shed on the hill above the murder scene.

  When they arrived at the scene, Officer Ruiz was waiting. She had patrolled the area all night. The US Attorney had arranged for a warrant with unlimited search authority. They approached the house w
ith measured caution. No one appeared to be there, but they had to be careful. They circled the house looking for evidence of a break-in or anything linked to the crime. It appeared to be undisturbed.

  The house was small and probably built as a summer cottage around the middle of the twentieth century. The clapboard was peeling in several places and roof shingles were curling up or broken. It looked like Curran led a carefree lifestyle. The nicest thing about Curran’s property was the boat tied to the dock, a nineteen-foot inboard ski boat, and a Jet Ski on a trailer. The Fox River is popular with Chicago residents offering magnificent water recreation within convenient driving distance. The river feeds a chain of lakes that could handle thousands of boaters with ease.

  They approached the front door slightly off center as trained at Quantico. Entries under warrant were particularly dangerous. They wanted to avoid stupid mistakes. Luke knocked on the door and announced their authority and warrant. Silence. They searched the front area by the door for a hidden key, but none was found. Getting a crowbar from his car, he forced the door open, prying near the lockset until the doorjamb splintered and broke. Inside, the first impression was that of a male living alone. After a