The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club

by Duncan Whitehead

  He supposed it didn’t really matter now, anyhow. The books were long out of print, and the royalty checks had stopped years ago. If some snoopy reporter ever dug up that Elliott had once been a best-selling author, he was sure he could use it to his advantage. Maybe his books could even be reissued. They could become bestsellers again, and then the royalty checks would start coming in. But then again, so might the letters.

  Elliott shuddered as he recalled the two anonymously written letters that had arrived in his mailbox twenty years ago. They were brief and to the point. The writer accused Elliott of plagiarism and fraud; the writer of the letter claimed to know the true identity of the real author of the books that Elliott was passing off as his own, and said that sooner or later he would be made to pay for what he had done. The letter said that “they” knew where he lived, “they” were watching him, and that “they” wielded considerable power and influence. Elliott had been frightened—if the old man were indeed who Elliott suspected him to be, then Elliott would be involved with people who were at the least extremist nuts or, worse, part of the organization responsible for the most absolutely evil deeds in history.

  Elliott never told Thelma about the letters. As abruptly and as suddenly as he had received them, they stopped. The two were all he ever got. They had been posted locally, though. Elliott recalled retrieving the envelopes from the trash to check the postmarks and the fear he felt when he realized that the threats were postmarked “Savannah.” He thought “they” must have done this to drive home the point that their people were close by and watching him. The handwriting had been neat, and the grammar had been well punctuated too, as if written by a person who meant business, and not some crackpot.

  As the years passed and nothing bad happened, Elliott gradually forgot about the threatening mail he had received. But what if his books were rereleased? What if the nut were still out there? What if there were indeed an active network of the man’s followers, still waiting and watching? Elliott pushed the thought from his mind. He was being ridiculous. It was history, and the chances of the books being reprinted without his authority were slim. He had maintained all rights to them. He had nothing to worry about, he assured himself.

  What was more pressing for Elliott was his current status—not as a politician but as a man. He was a widower; everyone knew that, Thelma had been very popular, and her passing was well publicized. But how would the voters feel about electing a single man as mayor? He hoped it wouldn’t matter, but the more he thought about it, the more he was coming to one conclusion. He needed at least a respectable consort, a woman whom he could be seen with. It was too soon, though, to go and marry someone new. He knew that. That would be as counterproductive as being single, and he needed to be careful how he conducted himself, especially with regard to his personal affairs.

  Elliott knew several divorced and widowed women, but not all were suitable. First, he needed someone who was presentable, articulate, and willing to work the long hours that being the mayor’s wife would entail. He had already whittled down the number of women who met his criteria to just two. The fact that they had both been friends with his dead wife was a bonus. It meant that people would understand that he had already known his new consort innocently; that nothing inappropriate had gone on while his wife was still living. Elliott knew that people in Savannah loved a scandal, and he knew the press did too. There was no way he was going to fall into that trap.

  Cindy Mopper he had always liked. She had been a good friend to Thelma and a good neighbor. She had run the neighborhood association ably and efficiently for years, and she was well respected in the community. She was presentable and well informed. She was definitely a candidate.

  His second and only other candidate was obvious. Carla had been a rock. She was always on hand, it seemed, to offer assistance and cook meals for Elliott. She had also been a good friend of Thelma’s, and though not as close as Cindy, she had still been regarded as part of Thelma’s inner circle of close friends. She was intelligent and was also wealthy. Not that money mattered, but it was always a point to consider. He sipped on a glass of sweet tea as he considered the pros and cons of both Carla and Cindy. Of course, Carla was a stunner. There was that. He found her very attractive—even sexy, and, of course, she knew it. She knew that every man over forty in the neighborhood lusted after her, especially now after her recent surgery. Carla always reminded Elliott of Raquel Welch—looking so much younger than her years, sexily dressed, and always groomed to perfection. It excited him to run into her in the park, early in the morning when they were alone and there was no one to gossip about their meeting, despite it being nothing more than two friends walking their dogs.

  Biscuit and Grits interrupted Elliott’s thoughts of Carla. Their feet pit-patted along the tiled kitchen floor toward where Elliott sat, his sandwich finished and the last drop of tea drunk. “Okay, you little guys,” he said, “time for another run in the park.”

  The casserole had been delicious. Tom had surpassed himself, thought his wife. Kelly took one last forkful before flinging herself back in her chair. “That,” she said pointing at her empty plate, “was delicious.”

  Tom smiled. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. You know I had to go grocery shopping on my own—first time ever. I was going to get cheese, milk, and bread, but I suddenly thought, why not make Kelly a welcome-home dinner?”

  Kelly leaned across the table and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I really don’t deserve you.”

  Tom smiled again. “It was weird, though.” He took his plate to the sink to rinse it, before placing it inside the dishwasher. “I saw Elliott at the grocery store.”

  Kelly looked up from the table. “How is he? How is he bearing up?” she asked.

  “That’s just it. I didn’t speak to him. It was as if he were trying to disguise himself. He had a big coat on, despite the heat, and he was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He looked really odd.”

  “Did he see you?” asked Kelly, intrigued by her husband’s encounter at the Piggly Wiggly.

  “No, he didn’t,” confirmed Tom. “Weird, though.”

  Kelly agreed that it was strange behavior, but, well, this was Savannah.

  “Listen—I got to go and collect this Billy kid,” said Tom, checking the time on his watch. Before Kelly could say anything, the doorbell rang. It was Cindy.

  “Welcome back!” Cindy cried as she hugged Kelly. “How was it?” she asked, scrutinizing Kelly as if she hadn’t seen her for months. Kelly explained that she’d had a fantastic time, but despite everything she was glad to be home with Tom. Cindy smiled and told her that she was indeed lucky to have such a good man to come home to. Tom had helped unblock her sink a few days earlier and had offered to take her garbage out for the Wednesday pickup.

  “You know, I think he secretly missed you,” whispered Cindy as Tom disappeared to search for his car keys. “I think he was pining for you. I think he spent most of the day in bed.”

  Kelly nodded. “Well, I won’t be going away again. Not for a long while, anyway, and certainly not without him,” said Kelly. “I missed him so much. You know, being away from here made me realize how much I actually have and how much I have to lose.”

  Cindy agreed with her young neighbor but was slightly confused by her last comment. How could she possibly lose Tom? Cindy let the comment pass. She had far too much on her mind as it was.

  “Well, you must be very excited,” said Kelly as she handed Cindy a glass of sweet tea.

  “I am. I haven’t seen Billy for a few years. I can’t believe he’s actually coming. You know, I’m so proud of him. Can you believe those poor little Indian kids?”

  Kelly nodded her head and told Cindy that Tom had already explained the good works her nephew was doing. Kelly said that he must be an exceptional young man and that Cindy was right to be proud of him.

  “Well, you mus
t meet him,” said Cindy. “Not tonight. I expect that he will be exhausted. It’s a long flight from India, and I imagine you need to unpack anyway,” Cindy motioned toward Kelly’s suitcase sitting next to the front door.

  The fact that she already had been home ten hours mustn’t have gone unnoticed by Cindy, Kelly thought. She wondered if she suspected that Tom and she had been in bed for six of those hours.

  “I bet you had some catching up to do,” commented Cindy, with a wink and a nod. Kelly flashed a smile at her intuitive neighbor.

  Kelly was about to relay Tom’s story of how he had seen a disguised Elliott at the grocery store to Cindy, but thought better of it. She would leave it for later. Cindy was far too excited for gossip.

  “Okay, I’m leaving. Don’t want to keep him waiting at the airport all night,” said Tom as he peered back into the den, dangling his car keys.

  “Change of plan,” announced Cindy. “Do you mind if I come with you to the airport?”

  Tom replied that there was room in the SUV, and because he didn’t know what Billy looked like, it would definitely be a help. Cindy and Tom said goodbye to Kelly, who said she would clean up after Tom’s delicious home-cooked meal. Tom kissed his wife on the cheek and promised that he would drive carefully.

  Kelly considered unpacking her suitcase but decided it could wait. She wasn’t in the mood, and anyway, the kitchen was a mess. Though Tom had cleaned and tidied the house, there were still the plates to clear and cutlery to wash from their dinner. Kelly began her chores, and as she did, she threw some leftovers into a bowl for Shmitty, who wagged his tail at the prospect of food.

  Kelly rubbed her eyes. She must have fallen asleep, the jet lag finally catching up with her. She was on the sofa in the den and remembered that she had cleaned up the kitchen and fed Shmitty before stretching out to watch TV. She checked the time on the wristwatch Tom had bought for her birthday three years before: it was midnight. She vaguely remembered waking up when Tom had called earlier from the airport. Billy’s flight had been delayed, and Tom and Cindy were still waiting for him, so they would be much longer than they had thought.

  Kelly could hear voices outside in the driveway—the slamming of a car door and the sound of a suitcase being dragged along the ground on its wheels. It must be Tom, Cindy, and Billy, thought the still half-asleep and groggy Kelly. She considered going outside and greeting Billy but decided against it. She looked a mess after snoozing, and she didn’t want her new, temporary neighbor’s first impression of her to be a poor one. She had an image to uphold. Instead, she decided to peek around the curtain and watch as Cindy led her nephew into his new home. She shifted the curtain and peered into the darkness. She could see that Tom was talking and laughing with Cindy and her nephew, who had his back to the window, so Kelly couldn’t get a good look at him. She could hear Tom’s laugh as it echoed in the night, and she saw him shake Billy’s outstretched hand. Cindy then leaned over and kissed Tom on the cheek. That was sweet, thought Kelly as she strained for a better view of her neighbor’s nephew, whom she had heard so much about. As Tom waved goodnight to Cindy and Billy, the trio shifted position, and Kelly got her first clear look at Billy Malphrus.

  Kelly’s eyes widened and her whole body stiffened. She suddenly felt herself go cold, as if her blood had just stopped and frozen solid in her veins. She blinked several times, not believing what she was seeing. She rubbed her eyes and blinked some more. Suddenly, the coldness she had felt was replaced with heat; a hot flush erupted from her stomach, seeming to engulf her whole body. Nausea gripped her. She felt as if she had been punched and the wind knocked out of her. She panted for breath, and slowly her breathing returned to normal. She was trembling as Tom inserted his key into the front door of their home, unaware that his wife was watching his every move. She was still trembling when Cindy and Billy disappeared through their door. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God!”

  Chapter 14

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?” asked Tom, concerned as he stood outside the bathroom door. Kelly, who had been locked in the bathroom for well over an hour, didn’t answer. Tom heard the sound of her throwing up for the third time and then the toilet flushing. It was well past two o’clock in the morning, and Tom had resigned himself to the fact that tonight he would get little, if any, sleep.

  “Listen, honey, are you okay? Look, I’m going to call Doctor Victor,” said Tom, his head pressed against the bathroom door.

  “No!” screamed Kelly. “I’ll be fine. It’s probably nothing. You just try and get some sleep.”

  Tom was worried. Maybe the casserole had done this to her. She had been fine before he left her to go to the airport.

  Kelly vomited again, and Tom winced at the sounds coming from the bathroom. “Do you think it was the casserole?” he asked, his voice fraught with worry.

  “What?” said Kelly, sounding confused.

  “The casserole, you know the one tonight?” clarified Tom.

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. Look, it could be anything, something I picked up in France probably.” The irony of Kelly’s last statement wasn’t lost on her, and she groaned as soon as the words left her mouth.

  “What was that?” said Tom, alarmed at the grunt of pain she had just uttered.

  “Nothing—just missed the bowl, that’s all,” lied Kelly. “Look, you just go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

  Tom scratched his head. He had eaten the casserole too, but he felt fine. It must be something she put in her mouth when she was in Paris, the firefighter decided. His watch at the firehouse started early in the morning. He couldn’t take an extra day off, not after having the last six days at home. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said to the bathroom door, “then I am going to try and get some sleep.”

  “I’m sure!” yelled back Kelly. “Just go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, well, goodnight then,” replied Tom. “Call me if you need me. Is there anything I can get for you before I turn in?”

  “No! Look, just to go to bed, Tom. There’s nothing you can do. I just need to get it all out. I’ll be in bed in a few minutes.” Kelly was glad for her husband’s concern, but she really needed him to go bed.

  “I love you!” shouted Tom as he headed toward the bedroom.

  “Me too!” shouted Kelly, not sure her husband had even heard her declaration of love.

  Kelly listened as her husband closed the bedroom door, and then she promptly threw up once more. She had begun vomiting just seconds after she had seen Count Enrico de Cristo enter Cindy’s house. She’d made it into the bathroom just as Tom walked through the door. That had been two hours ago. Tom had tried to persuade Kelly to let him enter the bathroom, so he could check that she was not in too much discomfort, but she refused steadfastly, telling him there was nothing he could do and that she needed to just ride it out.

  Kelly was frantic. Her nerves were shot, and her poor stomach just couldn’t take it. She had needed the time in the bathroom alone—not just to throw up, but to figure out what exactly was happening. Initially, she had wondered what the count was doing in Savannah. At first she thought that maybe he had traced her here. She had imagined that maybe he had returned to Rome, lovesick and enchanted by the famous model he met, and had contacted the Hotel Bonaparte in Paris and discovered her true identity. It was possible that the hotel could also have passed on her address in Savannah and that he’d chartered a jet immediately because he couldn’t bear being apart from her. Kelly dismissed that theory just as quickly as it formed in her head, though. It was a highly unlikely scenario. First of all, she was sure a ritzy establishment such as the Hotel Bonaparte didn’t give out their guest’s personal details; and second, how did Cindy Mopper fit into the whole thing?

  Her second theory was far more plausible and indeed was exactly what had occurred. Kelly had been duped. And by some tragic and horrific twist of fate, sh
e had actually slept with Billy, Cindy’s nephew from just outside of Atlanta, and not an Italian count with business interests in Naples and Rome, as well as a yacht he sailed to and from Monaco. She had almost dismissed that theory too, remembering that Cindy’s nephew was supposed to have been in India, looking after starving kids and performing charitable work. Kelly, however, quickly realized that if she had believed that the young man she had seen shaking Tom’s hand and entering Cindy’s home had been an Italian count, then there was no reason why Cindy wouldn’t be fooled that her nephew had just flown in from India.

  Kelly wasn’t bright, but even she could see what had occurred. She had been taken in by the far-fetched story of some horny redneck. The fact, however, that she had also tricked him didn’t once enter Kelly’s mind as she sat with her head draped over the toilet bowl. It never once occurred to her that she had also lied and misled, and had done so deliberately, without a care for any of the consequences. She didn’t consider herself just as bad as Billy. No. The only thing that was going through Kelly Hudd’s mind was that her perfect and contented life had just been invaded, and all that she had was now under threat.

  Kelly wondered what Tom would do if he ever found out that his wife had been unfaithful—and not with just anyone, but with Cindy’s nephew. Tom would leave her; she had no doubt about that. And then what? Without him she was nothing; she needed him. It wouldn’t take long for Tom to find somebody else. Kelly couldn’t bear to think of Tom in the arms of another woman; she couldn’t bear to think of living without him. However, having Tom discover her infidelity wasn’t her only immediate concern. How could she face Billy? The moment he saw her, he would realize immediately who she was—and then what? The consequences were just too disastrous for her to her imagine. Not only would Tom leave her, but she would be the laughing stock of the neighborhood by the time Cindy spread the story around.