What angered Cindy most was the boob job. What was Carla thinking? Did she really think that Elliott would be interested in a woman’s chest? He was far too refined and intelligent to be swayed by the sight of a woman’s ample décolletage. So what if Carla looked good? Had she forgotten her age? It was undignified for a woman of her years to be parading around like she was. She was making a fool of herself, or so Cindy hoped.
Cindy wondered about Carla, remembering she had been a dancer in Las Vegas. Well, Cindy knew about “dancers” and “Vegas.” It wouldn’t have surprised her if Carla had been a whore. She was certainly acting like one now. Cindy had read about how, during the sixties, the mafia ran the town and how all the misfits and losers and two-bit hustlers from all over the country congregated there. Cindy pushed the thought from her mind. No. Carla wasn’t a whore. She was manipulative, she was man hungry, and she was after Elliott. She wasn’t a whore, but she was a threat.
Cindy stood up and looked out onto Kentucky Avenue. She wouldn’t be surprised if right now Carla were planning some way of getting into Elliott’s bed. Carla had already started walking Walter in the mornings in the hope of “accidentally” bumping into Elliott. Elliott walked Biscuit and Grits in the morning, and it was obvious to Cindy what Carla was trying to do.
Cindy loved Elliott, though he didn’t know it yet. She was sure that it was what Thelma would have wanted. Elliott would love her back; she just knew it. They were ideally suited, the perfect couple. But Carla Zipp, the evil bitch, was ruining everything, coming between Elliott and Cindy with her little tricks, flashing her false eyelashes and her fake tits, practically throwing herself at the man that she, Cindy, was destined to be with.
Cindy was practically ill with rage. She wasn’t thinking straight; it was as if she were consumed. She could cook, but she couldn’t eat. She spent sleepless nights worrying that maybe Carla had already found her way into Elliott’s bed. Why was Carla here anyway? Why couldn’t she just go back to Florida where she had come from? She didn’t belong in Savannah, especially not in Gordonston. Cindy clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. That woman, that so-called friend of hers, why couldn’t she just disappear, just vanish, just…die.
By now Cindy’s resentment had turned to hate. She picked up a vase that had sat for years in her living room and threw it hard against the wall. That bitch! That whore! She’s going to steal Elliott from me, marry him, move into the big white house, and become the mayor’s wife! Cindy knew it. She knew what her deceitful “friend” was planning. How could she?
Cindy calmed down long enough to log onto her computer. She saw that she had an unread email from Billy, so she opened it. It seemed he was still in India but planned to return to the States so he could make some urgently needed money. He had found a small charitable mission just outside Mumbai and had volunteered to help. Unfortunately, though, they were running out of funds, and he had promised he would return to America and begin collecting for them so they could purchase the medicines they so desperately needed. He asked his aunt if he could possibly come and stay with her in Savannah while he attempted to raise money for the charity. He would then fly back to India where he was needed. Maybe she could help him find a part-time job, maybe with some of Uncle Ronnie’s old friends at the car lots, or maybe there would be a chance he could clean cars—anything to help the poor, sick children of India.
Cindy smiled. At least there was some goodness on this earth. She emailed Billy and told him that of course he could stay with her. She also said she herself would donate a thousand dollars to assist the poor Indian children. She would make inquiries to help him find a part-time job and suggested that there could even be jobs around the neighborhood; she knew many elderly neighbors who would jump at the chance at having a young man help out. Cindy wrote that she was very excited he was coming to stay. She said that she would ask Tom Hudd, her next-door neighbor, to pick him up from the airport, though she wasn’t sure if he would be able to. Kelly was going to be arriving home earlier the same day, and maybe two trips to the airport in one day would be too much to ask of the poor man.
Carla decided that she needed a drink. She twisted open a bottle of beer and poured it into a glass. She tucked her face into her chin and looked down at her cleavage. Elliott had certainly enjoyed them, she thought, recalling their afternoon of passion. All men are the same, she thought as she grinned and took a swig of the cold beer. Why had she ever thought that he would be any different?
Luckily, the groceries fit into one plastic carrier bag. It meant Doug could carry Katie and bring the groceries into the house at the same time. He placed the bag on the kitchen table and carried Katie into the den, where Bern had waited patiently. The dog awoke, lifted his head, and wagged his tail. Doug was sure Bern had been mournful the whole afternoon, disappointed that his afternoon walk had not yet materialized.
“Okay, I’ll grab your leash,” said Doug to the forlorn-looking animal as he glanced at his watch. It was approaching four, and as Katie had slept in the car, she was now ready for her afternoon stroll.
Katie was eager, just as Bern was, for her afternoon jaunt to the park. Doug unpacked the groceries and quickly chopped some lettuce and cucumber for the salad. He threw the fish into the refrigerator. Then he grabbed his daughter, her stroller, and Bern’s leash, and left the house.
The park was unusually quiet that afternoon. In fact, Doug, Katie, and Bern were the only ones there, which was odd. Usually the ladies would be sitting at the picnic table while their dogs ran amok. Doug began his circumnavigation of the park and released Bern from his leash. The dog made his way into the wooded area as Doug and Katie began their walk. It was good being alone in the park. Though he didn’t mind the old ladies, Doug always felt they were watching him, as if they policed the park. He also suspected that they were gossiping about someone or other, probably him. There was something about the oldest woman that Doug didn’t like; she looked sinister, kind of stern. Veronica had once told him she was German or “something,” which didn’t surprise him, and he guessed her two younger friends followed her lead. He imagined them agreeing with whatever she said.
From his bedroom window, Elliott had watched Doug enter the park, accompanied by Bern and Katie in her stroller. Elliott liked the young Englishman; he always said hello, and both he and his wife, Veronica especially, kept to themselves and minded their own business. Bern was a good dog; he always came when he was called. Elliott liked the fact that the park was being used by a variety of Gordonston residents, and not just the members of the Dog Walking Club; although his wife had been a member, he felt the club had somehow come to view the park as their own personal domain. Elliott thought about his own dogs and how they probably needed to get some exercise. Biscuit and Grits used to enjoy their afternoons in the park, yet Elliott had been taking them out in the mornings; maybe the afternoons would be better. He looked back toward his bed, at the rumpled sheets and empty wine and beer glasses on each of the bedside cabinets. He suddenly felt very alone. He felt the urge to shower, and maybe he would just brush his teeth again to help eradicate the taste of stale alcohol.
Elliott hadn’t always imbibed during the day, but since Thelma had become bedridden he had gotten into the habit, and it was beginning to take its toll. He was tired and felt a bit disheveled. This was no way for a future mayor to behave. He had to clean up his act. The people of Savannah wouldn’t want a slob running the city. They would want an upright man, a man of standing, a man of respect, a family man, a married man. They wouldn’t want a mayor who spent afternoons drinking and lying in his bed. Thelma would never have allowed him to sleep in the afternoon like that. She would have woken him and ordered him to shower and shave. Elliott Miller realized that he missed his wife more than ever and felt ashamed of himself.
Cindy had sent the email to Billy and was already preparing for his visit. She would need extra groceries, and she would need to mak
e up a bed for him. She had much to do. I’ll host a little welcoming party for Billy, she thought. She would invite Tom and Kelly and maybe Veronica and her husband around for drinks, and maybe she would ask Betty Jenkins to make some fried chicken. They were all about the same age, give or take a few years, and Billy could do with meeting some of the younger people in the neighborhood. So what if Veronica’s husband was a little strange—they all were, those English, and maybe Kelly could put whatever it was he said to her behind them. She considered inviting Heidi, but that would mean inviting Carla also. She didn’t want Carla coming—she hated the woman—and in fact she wondered if she could even face her old “friend” anymore. It wasn’t fair. Carla had been the one who had started the Dog Walking Club, and if Cindy stopped talking to Carla, it would mean the club would die.
Cindy’s mind was racing. Carla was a threat to her very existence. She had become a thorn in her side, and that thorn had to be removed before it did any more damage. With Carla around, then the Dog Walking Club could still feasibly exist without Cindy. Heidi and Carla would just find new members. Heidi was very influential and could recruit new members easily; she had a persuasive nature. The last thing Cindy wanted was Carla gossiping about her in her absence, and God forbid she ever found herself on the wrong side of Heidi.
The Dog Walking Club, though, was the least of Cindy’s problems; it was the Elliott situation that worried her more. Carla was a threat to her future plans. With Carla in the picture, Elliott’s attention was divided between them. Carla was competition for his affections, and dangerous competition at that. With Carla gone and no longer an option for Elliott, then Cindy was the natural candidate for his affections, once he was ready, when he realized he needed a wife.
Cindy was still logged on to her computer and online. She typed “Google” into her explorer page and the search engine’s web page appeared on her screen. She thought for a moment, as if deciding what words would be best to assist her in her search. She typed quickly and pressed enter. She opened her eyes in surprise. There were quite a few sites that dealt with that sort of thing, but one in particular caught her eye. She clicked onto the description and found herself being redirected to the advertised website.
She read the warning emblazoned across her screen before entering the website and made sure that her computer met all the criteria required and possessed the necessary components to view the site. She clicked to acknowledge that she understood the disclaimer and that she was entering the site at her own risk.
For a moment Cindy thought she had lost her connection to the Internet. Her screen went blank and then jumbled images and words reappeared. It was as if she were visiting a thousand different sites per minute, and she wondered if she had clicked onto the wrong site. Maybe she had downloaded a virus. She had never encountered a problem like this before, and she considered switching off her computer. Just as she was about to shut it down, her screen settled. It looked like she had finally reached the site.
These people seem very well organized, thought Cindy, as she read about how to proceed. There was some terminology she didn’t really understand such as “encrypted” and “untraceable ISP address,” but she persevered. There was an online form, similar to an application form, which instructed her to insert details regarding the type of service she required, including the names of all involved, as well as her own name and proof of funds. Initially, she was hesitant before filling out the form, but she decided that she had no choice and that really there was no other way to do this. Besides, Carla had brought it all on herself.
After completing the form and pressing the submit button, she was redirected to another page, a price list. The service was expensive. In fact, it would virtually wipe out her life savings. Nevertheless, she thought, in the end it will be worth it, especially if it meant I marry Elliott.
The instructions were simple. Her actual “job”—the one she asked them to do—was not guaranteed, and payment would be required only if the “Organization,” as they called themselves, decided to accept the “contract,” as not all contracts were practical or deemed viable. Cindy took a deep breath and clicked that she understood all that she had read. Once she had completed the online form and committed herself to the Organization, she exited the website. She then followed the detailed instructions she had received with regard to deleting her Internet history and removing any trace that she had visited the site.
Cindy realized that she was shaking. She had done it, and now there was no turning back. The website had informed her it was now up to the “Director,” whoever he was, whether her contract would be taken on or not. She would be advised once proof of funds and her ability to pay for the service had been verified.
A chill ran down her spine. She had just done something that she had only read about or seen in movies. She had crossed the line between what was regarded as normal and acceptable behavior and what was not. She had just contracted a murder. But more importantly, or in her mind at least, she had begun the process of ensuring that she regained control of her life. The fact that she had earmarked her friend Carla for death didn’t bother Cindy one bit. Carla was too great a threat to Cindy’s plans and future ambition. Elliott was hers, and there was no way she was going to let Carla stand between her and the man she loved. Carla had to go; it was that simple. Anyway, Cindy now had more pressing matters to deal with—organizing a dinner party, for one thing, and preparing for the visit of her nephew, Billy Malphrus.
Chapter 12
By the time Doug had returned from the park, prepared dinner, bathed Katie and put her to bed, fed the dog and cats, tidied up Katie’s toys, and folded and hung up some laundry, Veronica had arrived home.
“I got us some fresh fish,” he announced as his wife threw her keys onto the dining room table and her purse onto an adjacent chair.
“Great. I’m starving. Is she in bed?” Veronica asked, referring to Katie. “Yeah. She went down about an hour ago,” answered Doug as he served up a plate of Mahi-Mahi and rice for his hungry wife.
“How was your day?” he asked as Veronica tasted the food.
“This is good. Well done. Tastes great,” she said through mouthfuls of food. “Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, looking up at her husband. Doug had just remembered the salad he had prepared and was busy retrieving it from the refrigerator.
“I asked if you had a good day,” Doug said, smiling. His wife tilted her head as if trying to recall whether she’d had a good day or not.
“Not bad,” she replied. “How about you? Did anything interesting happen?” Doug thought for a minute. Yes. There was something he had wanted to tell his wife, something he felt could be classified as “interesting.”
“Well, we went grocery shopping for the fish,” he began.
Veronica was busy eating and, though listening, was not looking at her husband, but paging through one of her magazines.
“And I saw something pretty odd. Well, not odd—more interesting, really,” Doug continued. Veronica carried on, devouring the seafood on her plate.
“Oh yeah, what was that then?” she asked distractedly. Doug wasn’t sure if she was really listening to him, but he plunged on anyway.
“I saw one of those old ladies, the ones that hang out in the park with their dogs.”
Veronica looked up. “You mean Cindy?” she asked.
“No. The other one. Not the older one, the younger-looking one.”
“You mean Carla,” confirmed his wife, with her mouth full.
“Well, you know she’s had a boob job, don’t you?” said Doug.
“Oh, yeah, I’d heard that. She looks good, I hear,” confirmed Veronica.
“Well, that’s not it. There was something else,” said Doug. “She was at the checkout, buying loads of cleaning supplies and stuff. I wasn’t sure what it all was, but there was a lot of it.”
“So what? She can buy whatever she li
kes. There’s no law against cleaning your house,” joked Veronica.
“No,” said Doug. “That wasn’t it, silly. It was something else, something I bet you didn’t even know.”
Doug then proceeded to tell Veronica what he had seen earlier that day at the Piggly Wiggly when he had spotted Carla paying for her groceries in the adjacent aisle. When he finished relaying what he had seen to his wife, he lifted a fork full of Mahi-Mahi to his mouth.
“Are you sure?” asked Veronica, sounding dubious and lifting her head from the magazine she was reading.
“I am positive,” replied Doug, chewing on his fish.
“Well, don’t say anything, especially to anybody around here. That’s how rumors start in Savannah,” smiled his wife, “and there is probably a perfectly innocent explanation for it. She was probably just trying to help out.”
“Don’t worry. Who am I going to tell anyway?” answered Doug, “I don’t know anybody.”
Veronica laughed and then changed the subject. “Do you think Katie has a small head?”
“No,” replied Doug, “and neither do you, before you ask again.”
After they finished their meal, Veronica collected the dirty plates and cleared off the dining room table. Doug opened his laptop as his wife cleared the kitchen. He thought it wouldn’t hurt to check whether anything had come up on the work front yet. Veronica had told him not to be silly, that he really shouldn’t expect anything. The chance of them needing a representative in Savannah or the bank opening a branch, even in Atlanta, was highly unlikely.
Despite his wife’s pessimism, Doug logged into his email account. Nothing. His inbox was empty. He sighed. Maybe he was clutching at straws, and maybe Veronica was right. However, he thought, it didn’t hurt to check his email account every now and then. He would hate to miss an opportunity.
The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Page 15
