The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club

by Duncan Whitehead

  “Has anyone seen Elliott lately?” asked Carla, gazing toward the big white house that overshadowed the east end of the park. Heidi and Cindy both shook their heads. Cindy eyed her friend suspiciously. It seemed that Elliott was always at the forefront of her buxom friend’s thoughts.

  “I was wondering if we should extend him the invitation we discussed, to allow him to join us in the afternoons?” continued Carla, whose attention, Cindy noticed, was still focused on Elliott’s home. Carla, however, was actually focused even more precisely—on Elliott’s bedroom window. She had seen that the drapes were still shut and was wondering why.

  “Well,” began Heidi, “I am not sure how interested Elliott would actually be in joining us.” She took a swallow of her cocktail, prepared with more vodka than usual, before continuing. “What with his mayoral campaign I would think he would be far too busy to join us now.” Carla and Cindy were disappointed to hear this, but neither revealed how she felt.

  “That’s probably right.” agreed Cindy. “But maybe we should just offer. In any case, I already took the liberty of drafting a letter for you both to read.” Cindy removed the draft letter from her purse and handed it to her companions. Heidi read it first and then passed it over to Carla. Both women nodded, agreed that it was a well-worded letter, and gave their approval that Cindy should proceed.

  “Good,” said Cindy as Carla passed the letter back to her. “I’ll send an original signed letter this afternoon.”

  “What about our friend, ‘Mr. No Poopa Scoopa,’” said Carla.

  Heidi smiled. “Well, as you know, I had my Betty Jenkins do some investigating on our behalf,” she said triumphantly. “It turns out his name is Jackson. Ignatius Jackson.” Heidi took another gulp of her cocktail. “He lives over there, in that big house with the turret-shaped things. An ugly house, I have always thought.” She pointed to the northwest corner of the park, overlooked by a green-colored house. “His dog is called Chalky. Apparently, he goes to the same church as Betty Jenkins.”

  The other two women took simultaneous sips of their drinks and looked over to where Heidi had pointed. “So I have his address, and I have drafted the following.” Heidi removed from her purse the neatly handwritten note she had composed earlier that morning. She handed it first to Carla, who, once she had read it, passed it on to Cindy.

  Dear Mr. Jackson,

  It has come to our attention, we being the Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club, that on several occasions, while walking your Cairn terrier, Chalky, within the boundaries of the Gordonston Park, you have failed to sufficiently clean up after your animal has performed his natural functions.

  We, as residents of Gordonston and as responsible dog owners, feel that your failure to assume responsibility for your dog’s mess is an affront not only to us but to other users of the Park, your fellow neighbors. It would be much appreciated if, in the future, you would “scoop up” after your dog and collect his business, thus ensuring that the Park, which belongs to us all, is maintained in a way that will permit us all to enjoy its amenities.

  For your information, the Gordonston Resident’s Association has provided a “poopa scoopa” for the use of dog owners. It is located adjacent to the scout hut, and we implore you to seek out this user-friendly appliance and in the future to use it accordingly.

  Yours faithfully,

  Heidi Launer

  Cindy returned the handwritten note to Heidi. “Well, I think that’s great. It’ll get the message across,” she announced.

  Carla agreed with her friend. “Absolutely!” she cried.

  Heidi smiled. “Well, let’s hope so,” she said as she folded the note and placed it back in her purse.

  The ladies’ attention was diverted from the note the moment Heidi had returned it to her purse. The squeaking of the east gate caused the women to turn their heads to see who had just entered the park. It was Doug, with Bern, and pushing Katie in her stroller. As he always did, he released Bern from the leash, and the dog promptly bounded straight over to the other three dogs already at play. Then Doug began his slow walk around the park.

  “You know, I’m still not sure about him,” said Heidi, fixing the Englishman with a scowl. The other two ladies turned to face their friend.

  “In what way?” asked Cindy, uncertain why Heidi would say such a thing.

  “Well, for a start, he doesn’t work. He sends his poor wife off each morning. I find that odd.”

  Carla and Cindy didn’t disagree or agree, but just listened as the old woman spoke. “I mean, what type of man wants to spend all day with a baby? There is something decidedly un-American about it. That may well be the way they do things in England, but here, well, the man works and the woman brings up baby. That’s the way God intended it, and that’s the way it should be.”

  Cindy and Carla found themselves agreeing with their older companion.

  “It’s a good point. I know my Ronnie worked every day of his life, and even though we had no young ones at home, he would have been horrified if I’d been out working. My job—a woman’s job—was homemaking,” said Cindy.

  Carla nodded, “I suppose you’re right. Maybe the man is just lazy—or useless. What’s he supposed to be? An accountant? A banker? Well, I was married to a banker for thirty years, and that man worked hard for his money. Maybe he just doesn’t want to work.” The three women glared at Doug as he pushed the stroller around the park.

  “I don’t like him,” announced Heidi.

  “Me either,” agreed Carla.

  Cindy watched as Doug disappeared from view. “He’s certainly a strange one,” she added.

  Doug, who had no idea that he’d earned the universal disapproval of the Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club, continued his regular route through the park. He was in a buoyant mood; he had finally secured some work. It was temporary, but it was a start. The head office had come through, deciding that they might need a branch or at least a representative in this part of the world after all. It meant that maybe Veronica could start working part-time hours and spend more time with Katie. He hadn’t yet told Veronica the good news. Instead, he’d spent the morning cleaning the house from top to bottom and catching up on the family’s laundry. He’d also found time to water the plants and cut the grass on both the front and back lawns. He was exhausted but didn’t want to deprive Bern or Katie of their regular afternoon jaunt. He had skipped his lunch to ensure that their usual routine would not be broken.

  After completing a full circuit of the park, he called Bern to join him and Katie. He waved at the three ladies sitting around the picnic table. They smiled and waved back in unison.

  “Lazy man,” said Heidi under her breath and behind a toothy grin.

  “Idle, if you ask me,” said Cindy behind her false smile.

  “His poor wife, having to support her whole family while he just lazes about,” contributed Carla.

  Doug reattached Bern’s leash and led the dog with one hand while he pushed the stroller with the other back toward Kinzie Avenue. He smiled as he saw the old man with the white dog walking slowly toward him. “Beautiful day again,” Doug announced as Katie began rocking with excitement in her chair, delighted to have encountered the elderly gent and his dog.

  “Well, looky here,” said Ignatius Jackson as he bent down and put his face close to Katie’s. “The pretty girl been in the park again?” he asked softly. Katie opened her arms and pushed herself forward in her seat.

  “I think she wants you to pick her up,” announced Doug. The old man laughed, “Well, maybe old Ignatius might just lift you.” He looked at Doug, who indicated it was fine for the old man to pick up his daughter.

  Katie laughed and giggled in his arms. “You know, you make my day,” said the old man as Katie pointed at him and made gurgling noises. After a moment he put her back in the stroller again. “Well, I got to make sure old Chalky here gets
his exercise,” he said.

  “Have a good day,” Doug called as Ignatius Jackson proceeded toward the park.

  “Your little girl just made my day,” the old man said, smiling as he patted Doug on the back. “She’s precious,” he added. “You cherish this time. It only comes once.” Doug smiled back at the old man and headed home. He was happy with life, pushing his baby girl, with the exhausted Bern walking slowly behind them.

  “Oh, no,” said Cindy as the old man entered the park. Heidi and Carla once again turned their heads to the direction of the gate. “It’s him, ‘Mr. No Poopa Scoopa.’ ”

  “Just ignore him,” instructed Heidi. The old man waved at the three women but didn’t even raise his head to see if they waved back. The women hadn’t acknowledged him, in any case. He proceeded slowly around the perimeter track, Chalky faithfully at his feet.

  “So, what is young Billy up to today?” asked Heidi, her question directed at Cindy.

  “Relaxing. I think he may be working on the computer, actually, looking for sponsors, you know, to help the poor Indian kids. I think his main priority is fundraising.”

  “You must be very proud,” said Carla as she patted Cindy on the back. Cindy looked at Carla and smiled. That bitch is such a fake, thought Cindy. She has one thing on her mind—one thing only—and it isn’t Billy. Despite the fact that they all sat together, secretly Cindy felt nothing but hate for the woman to her right. She ignored Carla’s comment and took a drink of neat bourbon from her cup. It didn’t matter anyway. Soon Carla would no longer figure in any aspect of her life, she thought, eyes fixed on Carla’s ample, artificial chest.

  Billy spent the best part of the afternoon, as Cindy had suggested, using his aunt’s computer to search the Internet. He had not been looking for sponsors for the imaginary Indian children from the equally imaginary village, but surfing his favorite pornography sites. He had also been searching for information pertaining to the elusive Jerry Gordonston, the model he had screwed in Paris. He was trying to find pictures of her, or maybe even a biography. He realized that Texas was only a day’s drive away, and while he was in the United States, if he could scrape together enough money, he might be able to visit his one-time lover and reprise his role as the count. Unfortunately, despite his expertise with computers and the workings of the Internet, he was unable to find any trace of her. Eventually, he gave up.

  Billy Malphrus had never graduated from high school, despite the certificates and diplomas that hung on the wall of his parents’ home in Atlanta. He had flunked every subject and dropped out long before graduation. The fake diplomas and certificates were purchased using money stolen from a friend’s school locker. He had pompously presented them to his parents the morning after the graduation ceremony; they’d felt guilty about missing it.

  Billy became a thief at the early age of fifteen. He had, at one time or another, broken into every vehicle parked in the staff parking lot at his high school, while skipping class. His criminal career had progressed since then, and though he had never graduated from any accredited college, he held a master’s degree in the art of the confidence game.

  Billy had never been able to hold down a proper job for longer than a month. During those brief periods of employment he would con and steal from his coworkers and employers, and generally attempt to part them from as much of their money as possible. It was quite remarkable that he had never spent any time in jail. What was even more remarkable was that he had never been caught once or charged with any crime. Billy was good at his chosen career, and he could fool most people. This was how he made his living, and he had managed to travel around Europe on his ill-gotten gains. Even in Europe he’d managed to continue his mini–crime wave, stealing a wallet here, a purse there, and working a con game every now and then.

  Sometimes the money he stole or swindled would last for a little while, and he would indulge himself in clothes and accessories—expensive sunglasses and shoes, for instance—which he would use as props in his next con. Other times he would have to find temporary or part-time work as a bus boy or a janitor so that he could eat, but as soon as possible he would continue his grifting. Billy always had an angle. Where there were people, there was money. That was Billy’s philosophy.

  His current plan was—he often congratulated himself on it—ingenious. He planned to remain in Savannah for a month, no longer than that. In that time he would accumulate as much cash as he could. He would gain the trust of his aunt’s friends and neighbors by doing boring and even obnoxious tasks and chores for little or no payment. Of course, people would insist that the hard-working boy take some payment, but he would steadfastly refuse. He would then ask if his new admirers needed other tasks done, maybe even inside the house while they were working or out of town. He was sure that at least one of his aunt’s wealthy neighbors would require some sort of assistance or another of this kind. When this happened, he would search out their valuables and maybe even cash hidden away under mattresses or floorboards. Billy knew what these old birds were like; they were old fashioned, and he was sure at least one of his aunt’s cronies would have something hidden away just waiting for him.

  Billy had heard that the people of Savannah were an odd bunch, and he guessed that a lot of these old houses and the people who lived in them had many a secret treasure hidden or on display, but probably had no idea of its value. Once he had discovered such a cache—which he was sure he would—he would plan a day of thievery. He would have already planned his departure from the city. Everyone would be aware that he was leaving for India, of course, to continue his charitable work. He imagined the suckers would even throw him a farewell party! He made a mental note to himself to plant that idea in his crazy old aunt’s head. The very next day, after he had supposedly left for India, he would return to the neighborhood and either force entry, or use keys he would have copied, to gain entry to their homes and relieve the trusting residents of their property. He wouldn’t fall under their suspicion because they’d think that he’d already left town.

  He also had another plan—his backup plan—should he not find hidden valuables in his aunt’s friends’ homes. He would try to obtain as many donations as he could for the poor children of the Indian village he was set to return to with medical supplies and other items to aid the poor unfortunates. He was sure the wealthy widows of Savannah would jump at the chance at being able to donate a little toward his charitable venture. After all, hadn’t he been good enough to mow the lawn, clear the drains, and clean up the yard all for free?

  The first setback in his plan, however, had been the postponing of his Aunt Cindy’s proposed “welcome to the neighborhood” gathering in his honor. The quicker he could meet people and gain their trust, the better. Tom Hudd, who had picked him up at the airport, seemed an easy mark. Big and stupid, that’s how Billy had viewed the kindly fireman, and his wife sounded no brighter. People who spent their days putting out fires or selling makeup to fat women in a mall deserved to be relieved of their best china, he thought. As for the English guy and the woman who worked at the hospital, he was sure they would have some good stuff—newlyweds always did. Maybe rings or watches. It was a shame that the stupid bitch next door had gotten food poisoning or the virus or whatever it was she had.

  Billy didn’t dwell on his initial lack of success for too long. His aunt had already promised him a contribution to his charity project, and that was a good start. There were plenty of potential targets. The old lady, the German one, had a big house, and he just knew that a woman like that would have a stash of goodies hidden away. She would be his first target. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her heirlooms and trinkets.

  Next would be the big house, the white one that belonged to the guy with the poodles. His wife had just died, so Billy reckoned there would be plenty of her old jewelry just lying around. Billy rubbed his hands in anticipation, walked to the front window of his aunt’s house, and peered out into the
street. Yes, there were some rich pickings to be had in this neighborhood, and soon his fun would start.

  As Billy Malphrus was peering from his aunt’s front window facing the street, Kelly Hudd was also peering out of hers. She wondered how long she could keep up the pretence of her “highly contagious disease.” Tom had bought it. She’d told him that the doctor had instructed her to stay indoors and that on no account was she to accept visitors. As Tom hadn’t yet caught the strain of the virus she had contracted, the doctor told her it was unlikely that he now would. Tom had been relieved. He was already receiving a ribbing from his fellow firefighters for his wasted vacation time, and to take even more time off would have been impossible.

  Thanks to the amount of makeup that Kelly possessed, she was easily able to fake a sallow and pale complexion, as well as create a spectacular rash that she told Tom was a symptom of her disease. As long as Tom didn’t get too close, which he hadn’t, she was able to paint on lipstick mixed with blush without his actually realizing that the blotchy areas of skin seemed to shift around from one day to the next. She got Tom to spread the word around the neighborhood that visitors should stay away from the Hudd household, and her plan seemed to be working, for now at least. Shmitty though, was a problem. He needed his exercise, and Tom couldn’t just come home at his leisure to walk the poor dog. It meant she had to release Shmitty into the back yard and call him back, disguising her voice should her next-door neighbor’s houseguest recognize it. Another problem was work. She couldn’t expect to stay off work indefinitely without a doctor’s note. Sooner or later her supervisor would want to see some sort of documentation as to why she had not shown herself at the beauty counter for days now.