by Joe Conlan
Avoiding the gore, he passed through the bedroom searching for the pair of shoes Anderson wore that evening. Unconcerned it would affect the woman’s sleep, he switched the light on in the bathroom. The shoes were lying on the floor of the closet underneath a pile of dirty clothing. He placed them on his feet, walked back to the far side of the bed, stepped into the pool of the already stagnating gore, and made a trail of four bloody footprints leading outside to the edge of the balcony. He feigned losing his balance as he made the tracks. While on the balcony, he removed the shoes, mask, towel and blood spattered body suit, and threw them overboard.
In the event he was unable to find their issue of the Daily Diamond, Shem had one ready in his inside jacket pocket. Their copy was resting on a stack of papers on the wife’s nightstand. Still wearing the rubber gloves, he leafed through the pamphlet to locate the ten percent off discount advertisement. He partially cut the coupon out with the scissors, being sure to smear it with blood from the carpet. He then placed both items on the floor in front of the desk.
The next part of his plan would truly baffle the authorities. It involved his intentions for the wife. He would have liked to have slit her throat and thrown her over the balcony too, but creating confusion was necessary for the overall effect. He threw the rubber gloves into the sea, made his way to the bathroom, got dressed, put on a spare pair of plastic gloves from his pants pocket, went to the front door, and opened it a crack to peek into the hallway. Seeing no one, he went back to the wife’s side of the bed and lifted her. She stopped snoring for an instant, but didn’t wake up. He carried her to the saturated carpet and rubbed her head and arm in it before heading toward the door. Having left it slightly ajar after cutting the coupon, he pushed it aside with his foot to exit the cabin. Since it opened toward the inside, it was a struggle to close it behind him without dropping the woman. He ultimately succeeded quickly enough to avoid lingering in the corridor too long, pulling the knob with his stronger, dominant right hand, while resting her head in the crook of his arm.
Before entering the crew area, he looked through the circular windows and as he expected, it was also deserted. One good kick and the swinging door opened inward, allowing him to deftly continue on his way through the crew hallways. He peered around corners before proceeding, making sure they were devoid of any late night wanderers. Arriving at his preordained destination on the same deck as the Anderson’s cabin, he passed through the exit leading directly onto the pool deck. He set her down in a lounge chair, still sound asleep then quickly disappeared through the door he had entered.
He had one small task to complete. He used the crew area route to the Anderson’s cabin and re-entered. Inside, he made the bed and sat on the edge to create a ruffled appearance. With that final installment of his plan checked off his list, he casually strolled back to his sleeping quarters. The instant he closed the door behind him, he looked at his watch. It had taken him exactly one hour and four minutes to execute his entire plan from the time he left his colleague sleeping in the control room. Ken O’Brien would awake from his slumber ten minutes later. Concerned that he would be fired, he never admitted to either the internal investigative team or the FBI that he’d fallen asleep on the job the night of the disappearance.
On his way to Annie’s, Shem thought about the last morning on the Diamond, when he made the decision to stay in Ft. Lauderdale. He didn’t sleep after returning to his cabin. He knew he had committed the perfect crime, risky as it was, but intentionally made the circumstances ambiguous. He was certain it was time to call it quits and move on. The only downside was giving up his opportunity to see Annie when she periodically visited the ship.
The first time he met Annie Bryan, she came to the Diamond to conduct an inspection of their security systems and procedure. He instantly became fixated on her. She was a vision to behold, with her beautiful African American, cream-colored skin and emerald green eyes. She stayed on the ship for a full week. Grossly unfamiliar with the feelings he was experiencing for her, he never marshaled the nerve to speak to her. The desire to have an intimate relationship with another human being was both confusing and intriguing to him. She made a total of four visits to the ship over the two years he worked for King and not once did he approach her. He may not have been ready yet, though there was one thing about which he was absolutely certain. One day, she would be his.
He packed his bags at four o’clock on that final morning on the Diamond. At 5:30am, the ship pulled into Port Everglades, Florida. It cleared Immigration and Customs before seven. By 7:15, he slipped off the gangway, using the crew exit, never to return. He found it fateful that the end of his run on the Diamond would come in the city where Annie Bryan resided. Six months later, he was still living in the small apartment he’d rented in Pompano Beach, just ten miles north of Port Everglades. Parked across the street from Annie’s condo on Ft. Lauderdale Beach, he waited for his first glimpse of her of the day.
Chapter 5
It was the dead of winter, but one would never know it by the record high temperatures roasting the South Florida coastline. Though Annie Bryan had her air conditioner running at full blast in her penthouse condominium on Ft. Lauderdale Beach, a bead of sweat trickled down her spine as she rooted through her over-sized walk-in closet, searching for something suitable to wear for the French Quarter restaurant. Michael asked her out for dinner and a movie and she was regretting having accepted his invitation. The combination of the oppressive heat and her aggravation over his persistence was putting her in a bad mood.
Annie had been seeing Michael Munez for the better part of three years, though she preferred not to refer to him as her boyfriend. From her perspective, it was a casual relationship with no strings. Despite countless conversations where Annie expressed her reluctance to any form of commitment, Michael, didn’t see it that way. He was starting to get a little too attached for Annie’s comfort. He was a nice enough guy, but she wasn’t in love with him. She tried to break it off completely on several occasions. Each time Michael convinced her he had no problem with the lack of commitment. Deep inside, she knew it couldn’t be further from the truth. One of these days, she’d find the courage to stick to her guns.
She chose a red cotton Versace dress with black Gucci pumps. The garment was made of a light enough fabric to give her the best chance to avoid perspiring in the summer-like heat. Annie always looked forward to the South Florida winters. They produced some of the most beautiful weather imaginable and she enjoyed the relief from the brutal combination of sweltering temperatures and high humidity. She slipped into the dress and pumps, chose a Tiffany’s set of diamond earrings with a matching bracelet and went directly to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. If she was going to do something against her better judgment, she was going to have a good time doing it. She looked out at her panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean while she downed two big gulps of the Chardonnay.
Annie’s condo was 3,500 square feet of exquisitely decorated and furnished luxury. It included an immense master bedroom and two guestrooms, with a total of four full bathrooms. Floor to ceiling windows extended across the entire eastern façade. This afforded her views of Ft. Lauderdale Beach from every room. The master bath, the size of a studio apartment, had floors, walls and a roman tub that were constructed of polished white and beige Italian marble. The tub had Jacuzzi jets and ten adults could fit in the shower with room to spare. While Annie often felt guilty for the extravagance of her home, she conceded that she worked extremely hard for what she had and deserved a bit of spoiling. Besides, she did her part in assisting those less fortunate than she. She regularly volunteered her time and made large contributions to worthy causes. Generosity and charity were instilled in her by her mother from a very early age.
The resonating sound of the telephone interrupted Annie’s peaceful contemplation of the gorgeous seascape. She placed her glass of wine on the family room coffee table and ran to the kitchen to check the caller I.D. It was Michael. Sh
e picked up the receiver.
“Hello Michael. Right on time as usual.”
“Yeah, I try. Among many other fine qualities, I’m sure.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Just what I was hoping you’d say. The words I’ve waited all these years to hear.”
“I hope you’re not starting Michael. I’m not in the mood.”
“Geez, get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I was just joking.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. This damn heat’s been getting to me. I can’t keep my place cool enough- it’s so frick’n hot outside.”
“Well maybe some good company and a great meal’ll cheer you up. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do you want to meet me downstairs, or should I come up?”
“I’ll come down. See you in ten.”
Annie hung up the phone, guzzled down the rest of her wine, grabbed her black Gucci purse, and rushed out the door. By the time she arrived at the front entrance, Michael was just pulling up under the portico. He started to exit the vehicle to open the door for her, but she waved him off and hopped into the passenger seat. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, evoking a grimace of disappointment. He pulled out onto Birch Street, turned left on Las Olas, and then drove the three short miles to the restaurant.
Shem Chassar had been parked outside of Annie’s penthouse apartment since she returned from work at 6:30pm. He began the habit of following her to and from work every day just one week after settling in Ft. Lauderdale. He spent most of his nights until nine on the beach facing her building. When Annie’s curtains were drawn, he had a perfect view inside the apartment using his high-powered, night vision binoculars. In the evenings, she spent most of her time in the family room overlooking A1A and the ocean beyond. The lights from the apartment created the perfect conditions for feasting his eyes on the woman who would someday soon belong to him.
In the entirety of Shem’s life, there was only one other instance when he felt any sense of desire for closeness to another human being. It happened upon his very first opportunity to venture outside of his mother’s apartment when he was nine years old. In a drugged and drunken stupor, Cherie Tucker forgot to lock the door when she left the apartment to meet with her crack dealer. The boy, aware of his mother’s mistake, took full advantage of his opportunity, though not without trepidation. He felt a nervous excitement as he opened the door and walked out into the dark, dank hallway of the seventy-year-old building. When he encountered the staircase, he almost turned back. Instead, his curiosity got the best of him and he descended the steps in a deliberate manner, keeping a firm grip on the banister, taking excessive care not to fall. It took him several minutes to reach the ground floor. With a mixture of apprehension and thrill, he exited the front entrance into the broad daylight of a Chicago late morning. Blinded by the bright light, he immediately sat down on the front stoop to orient himself and survey the area.
His apartment overlooked the rear of the building where public access was denied. As a result, before this occasion, the only people he had ever seen were his mother and her customers. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw children his own age for the first time. There was a group of boys in the middle of the street playing some type of game with a ball and a club. As he watched the scene, a young black woman came out of the entrance of a neighboring apartment building with two toddlers following closely behind. He was immediately taken aback by her stunning beauty, though it wasn’t her appearance that ultimately won over his interest. He observed the woman as she played with her children and affectionately gave them hugs and kisses. Shortly thereafter, she called to one of the boys playing the game to inform him it was time for lunch. The family sat on the stoop of their building while the mother served them a picnic-style meal. The loving way she interacted with her children introduced the young boy without a name to an idea completely obscure to him. In spite of his total lack of experience with anything of a social nature, he could tell this woman was to her children what his mother was supposed to be to him. After observing them for a few more minutes, his understanding of the situation incited two diametrically opposing emotions. In that moment, he loved the mother for the way she loved her children. At the same time, a fury broiled somewhere deep within the recesses of his soul. It was an anger bred by jealousy for how a mother was meant to relate to her children and a hatred for the Tucker bitch.
The woman noticed the strange, skinny boy sitting all alone with his head bent down and forward in his hands. Having never seen him on their street, she walked over to ask if he was lost. Frightened by her approach, he turned to run. A tenderness in the tone of her voice calling out made him stop in his tracks. In a brief discussion with him, she discovered he lived on their street, hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and didn’t know where his mom was, nor when she’d be coming back. Though it angered her, she didn’t express those feelings to the boy either with her words or her manner. She considered calling Child Protective Services, but recognized their response to cases in this neighborhood was a joke. The only way she knew to help was to offer him some fried chicken from her picnic basket. Unsure how to react, the boy ultimately accepted the strange, warm food. He had never eaten anything that wasn’t stone cold and was reluctant to put it in his mouth. She had to encourage him to try it. When he finally did, it was the most delicious food he had ever tasted.
The nameless boy’s mother became increasingly careless about locking the door as he grew older. Each time he had the opportunity, he would go outside to sit on the stoop in hopes of catching a glimpse of the beautiful mom across the street. With mixed emotions of rage, envy, and compassion, he watched her devoted and nurturing ways with her children. Every time she saw the boy, she would come over to greet him and give him a treat. When he wasn’t able to go outside, he would listen for her voice when she called her children at meal times and the end of the evening. When the family moved out of the neighborhood two years later, it was the last time Shem could recall experiencing any kind of a curiosity toward another human being; until the moment he met Annie Bryan.
Everything about Annie, from her mannerisms and body type, to her facial features and disposition, reminded him of that woman. Why such a superior person like Annie continued to see Michael Munez was beyond his comprehension. She was way too good for him and he could plainly see she wasn’t in love. What pissed Shem off the most was Munez’s constant interference with his nights with Annie. The minute Shem saw her standing in her living room window in a beautiful red dress, he knew she was going out with him. As soon as the lights went out, he rushed to his car parked directly across from her building’s front entrance and waited for her to come downstairs.
Like clockwork, several minutes later Shem saw a charcoal gray Porsche 911 approaching Annie’s building through his side mirror. He often considered ridding the world of this waste of humanity driving his fancy car. It hadn’t happened yet because of a rule he did his best not to violate. To kill in his own backyard was to be avoided at all costs. It also worked in Michael’s favor that Shem didn’t see him as much of a threat. Shem was confident Annie would eventually dump him. He would just have to wait a little longer and patience was one of his greatest assets.
After Michael pulled into the driveway, Shem started the engine of his Ford Expedition. He waited for several seconds after the Porsche headed south on Birch Street, then pulled out onto the road. To avoid detection by Annie or anyone else, he purchased four different ordinary cars for a total price of three thousand dollars. His plan was to never drive the same car on consecutive days. It minimized the wear and tear on the vehicles and more importantly, the odds of him being noticed when he was following Annie. So far, it was working. Maintaining a distance of approximately ten car lengths behind, he implemented some calming exercises he had learned on the Internet. It helped to relieve some of the agitation he was feeling from another night trashed by Munez. He could almost physically feel the anger bubbling its way to the surface. Overactive emoti
ons bred mistakes and any missteps on his part were unacceptable.
The Porsche pulled into the valet parking line of the French Quarter. Shem maneuvered the Ford Expedition into the pay parking lot directly across from the restaurant. He placed two dollars in quarters in the meter, giving him a total of four hours. With time to pass, he sat on the hood of the SUV thinking that he would observe the cattle as they strolled down Las Olas Blvd.
Walking the streets of Miami was beneath her. She had more talent in her pinky finger than most of the drag queens that were making it big these days. At least, it was what Glamorosa Champagne was thinking as she reapplied her blood orange lipstick that was smudged by the blow job she’d performed on her previous client. When in drag, she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. There weren’t too many people who could tell she actually had a penis between her legs. It got her in trouble at times, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Learning the fine arts of self-defense was a must for any man that dressed in women’s clothes. Glamorosa never left her home without her portable can of mace and the derringer revolver given to her by her best friend. She also did her best to limit her services to oral and anal sex, without revealing her private parts.
It wasn’t the most productive of nights. At that point, she had only earned sixty dollars for her oral talents. That wasn’t even enough to cover her bar tab from earlier that evening with her friends at the Cathode Ray on Las Olas Blvd. She was actually lucky she still had her purse with her rent money and a small amount of extra cash. If it weren’t for that nice, good looking gentleman sitting in the parking lot across from the French Quarter, the juvenile delinquent who was about to rob her would have gotten away with it. How the nice man grabbed her and placed his body between her and her attacker was nothing less than heroic. She tried to give her savior a tip, but he refused. As a substitute demonstration of gratitude, she gave him her business card with her home address and offered him free service any time he chose.
