by Bobby Akart
He stopped by Stephanie’s residence where Ashby had spent the night. She was glad that he was home safely and the two of them took a moment to catch up, speaking in a way that did not raise the suspicions or concerns of Stephanie.
Ashby had spent time with the distraught wife but eventually Stephanie couldn’t fight sleep any longer, especially after Ashby kept the red wine flowing in her direction. It wasn’t necessary to add the sedative, as Ashby intended.
After, a brief conversation with Stephanie, Jake and Ashby walked alone to the morning meeting. He did not intend to hide from the men who’d falsely pointed fingers of blame at him that morning. He would stand proud against his accusers and defend himself by exposing their recklessness and incompetence if necessary.
The meeting started like normal with the usual meaningless news updates until one woman shouted from the rear.
“Let’s dispense with the preliminaries. I heard a man died last night during a run. What about that?”
Jake leaned into Ashby. “Here we go.”
Joe stepped forward and Mike quickly joined his side. This was the moment of truth for Jake. Joe handled the response.
“We conducted several raids last night and gained a tremendous of amount of supplies and weapons for the community. Unfortunately, there was a mishap resulting in the death of one of our own.”
The questions rained down upon Joe’s head.
“What?”
“Who was it?’
“How did it happen?”
“Are you gonna fight back against the killer?”
Mike took over from there. “Everyone, please. Like any other shooting, an investigation has to be undertaken. We will do our due diligence and file an appropriate report with the executive committee. In the meantime, we need to express our condolences and share in the grief that this man’s family is enduring.”
More questions came flying from all directions. The natives were restless following their first casualty, just as Jake suspected they would be.
“What about Ken? Did you give up on finding him?”
“His wife is probably grieving too, and you’ve abandoned the search!”
“Not so fast,” replied Joe as he tried to shout down the complainants. “We thoroughly searched for Ken within the walls yesterday so we could rule out foul play in Fruitvale West. As we speak, as a matter of fact, our people are systematically sweeping the neighborhoods adjacent to us. The entire day will be spent looking for Ken, am I right Mike?”
As Mike stepped forward, a vehicle could be heard speeding up the drive toward the swimming club. Everyone’s attention was directed toward the parking lot. Instinctively, Jake slid his hand down to his sidearm and prepared to pull it from his holster.
With everyone’ eyes focused on the approaching car, Mike said, “Excuse me for a moment.”
He pushed his way through the crowd and walked toward the car which came to an abrupt halt. Mike leaned into the open driver’s side window and spoke with the occupants. Two of Mike’s guards joined him and they exchanged a few words.
The men crawled into the backseat of the sedan and the vehicle sped off again. Mike stood with his hands on his hips, staring off into the distance before he dropped his head and returned to the onlookers.
“What’s going on Mike?” asked one man.
Another woman pushed forward. “Is this about Ken?”
Mike walked past them all, holding his hands up as they crowded around him. He finally reached Joe and Paulette and whispered to them for a long minute, during which time Joe looked in Jake’s direction several times.
Jake adjusted the particulate mask on his face, hoping to hide his words. “Ashby, they’ve discovered something, and somehow it leads to me.”
“What should we do?”
“I’ll handle it, but I can feel the walls closing in on us. If we’re gonna come up with an exit strategy, we’ve got to do it today.”
She reached her arm around his waist and whispered to him. “I might have an idea. It’s a long shot but it may be our best option. Can you handle these guys?”
“Yeah, but if you hear gunshots, meet me at the house and have the Mustang warmed up and pointed out the driveway. We may have to make a run for it.”
Ashby laughed. “No Bonnie and Clyde stuff. You just buy us the rest of the day, okay?”
Jake squeezed her hand. “Sure, Bonnie. Whatever you say.”
Mike stepped away from the members of the executive committee and caught Jake’s attention. Jake hesitated for a moment and then stepped through the crowd as Ashby gradually slipped backwards and out of sight.
With his hand resting on his gun, he walked defiantly toward Mike. Men like him relied upon bullying tactics to gain the upper hand. Jake wasn’t going to give Mike that satisfaction. He was already prepared to give a plausible explanation for everything that happened the night of Ken’s death. Enough of one that would give them time to escape the community, if necessary.
Mike motioned for Jake to walk with him and Joe tagged along for the conversation. Jake planned to say as little as possible and naturally, admit nothing. But sometimes, you have to give up a little to appear realistic. Mike’s interrogation got straight to the point.
“Wheeler, when you arrived here, you were towing a vehicle behind your motor home, were you not?”
Jake thought quickly. They’ve found the sandrail and someone must’ve recalled it was being towed behind the Bounder. He decided to take a combative, defiant approach.
“You mean your motor home, am I right?” Jake asked, intentionally adding the emphasis to make a point.
Joe immediately noticed Jake’s tone. “Now, Jake, we’re trying to gather all the facts here. Did you have a dune buggy behind your motor home when you arrived?”
“Yes, I did. It’s parked behind a vacant house just outside the gate.”
“Now, why would you do that?” asked Joe sarcastically.
“Because I knew you people would be taking my motor home for your community’s sole use and benefit. I was very uncomfortable giving up our only transportation.”
Mike shot back. “You knew that was the deal, Jake. You intentionally circumvented our arrangement.”
“Pretty one-sided, don’t you think, Mike? I come in with a motor home full of food and supplies, and all I get in return is a cardboard box full of measly rations and the opportunity to get shot at every night? Yeah, I hid the sandrail in case we needed it later. Guilty as charged.”
The two men stared each other down as the power struggle intensified. Jake, however, was relieved as it appeared the basis of the confrontation had nothing to do with Ken’s disappearance and more to do with disrespecting their authority. He could deal with that.
“Where are the keys?” asked Mike.
“I don’t have any. I stole the machine from a guy I had to kill in Oregon. He attacked us and so he had to die.”
Jake stuck his chest out as if to challenge Mike. He so desperately wanted to ask Mike if he’d ever killed anyone? Jake had notched a lot of kills, including Mike’s best buddy, Ken.
Joe stepped forward. “Jake, we need to bring it into the community for safekeeping. I’m not saying that you can’t have the use and benefit of it at some point, but for now, for appearance sake, we need to confiscate it. Do you have a problem with that?”
Jake didn’t care because he had his father’s Mustang, and the keys to the sandrail, of course. Besides, he was glad this had nothing to do with Ken’s body, although discovery of the sandrail meant the search teams were getting dangerously close to the female witness and the rotting corpse. “No, since you asked nicely.”
Joe nodded to Mike who left in a huff. Then, he turned to Jake. “I’m going to be interviewing everyone late this afternoon regarding last night’s shooting, but we need to keep the focus on finding Ken today. Will you be available to give your side of the story?”
“Of course, Joe. Whatever you need.” Jake lied through his teeth, wi
th a smile.
Chapter 44
Fruitvale West
Saratoga, California
Ashby stopped at the front door and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her goal was simple—get Stephanie’s approval to use Ken’s SUV for an errand. If she and Jake were to escape the clutches of Fruitvale West, they’d need more reliable transportation than the vehicles at their disposal. Besides, with Ken dead, he wouldn’t need it anyway.
She’d felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of the idea at the morning briefing. Ashby had genuinely come to like Stephanie Kennedy over the last few days and was empathetic over the loss of her husband. But, their marriage was far from ideal, and in Ashby’s mind, borderline abusive. Stephanie never said that Ken physically hurt her, but the emotional strain of his extracurricular activities had taken its toll on the poor woman.
Ashby gently knocked on the door and entered, before she announced herself. “Stephanie, I’m back from the morning briefing.”
There was no response. Ashby made her way into the kitchen and saw an open bottle of wine on the kitchen island. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Stephanie was self-medicating before noon.
Ashby chuckled at the thought. Social mores always dictated that there were certain acceptable rules for drinking alcohol. Never drink alone. That was rule number one. Rule number two was don’t drink before noon. Rule number three was vodka drinkers had something to hide. She thought those rules made about as much sense as the one that stated you shouldn’t have spaghetti for breakfast or scrambled eggs for dinner.
“Stephanie, are you home?”
“I’m in here, Ashby,” she replied from Ken’s study.
Ashby made her way to the study and found Stephanie dressed in silk pajamas, twisting back and forth in Ken’s chair, studying a balloon glass full of cabernet. Stephanie didn’t make eye contact which immediately put Ashby on guard.
“How do you feel?” Ashby asked hesitantly.
Stephanie let out a chuckle and rolled the cabernet in her glass, studying the waves created as the wine rolled from side to side.
She slurred her words as she spoke. “Much better, now. You know, I woke up a little depressed about all of this. Then, I got to thinking about you.”
Stephanie’s eyes closed slightly as she pointed her index finger at Ashby.
Ashby nervously looked around the room and then walked toward the window overlooking the backyard. She glanced at the picture of a motor yacht crashing through a wave on the Pacific Ocean. The entire image, taken as a whole, gave her a feeling of freedom and escape. Stephanie’s attitude this morning made Ashby want to escape, now.
“What about me?” asked Ashby, who continued to stand and wander around the study. She wanted to be able to bolt out the door in case she was challenged by Stephanie.
“Please, Ashby, sit. You’re making me nervous and I have a lot to say to you.”
Ashby took another look around the study and then glanced at both entrance doors, subconsciously checking for anyone who might be listening to the conversation.
She eased into a chair facing Stephanie. “Okay, let’s talk.”
“I’ve come to trust you and rely upon you since Ken’s disappearance,” Stephanie began. She took another big gulp of wine and became more animated as she spoke. “This whole Yellowstone thing was supposed to be a fresh start for me and Ken. Sure, life was about to get difficult for us all, but it was just the change needed for us to get back on track.”
Ashby was puzzled by the start of this conversation. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“After we closed up the community to outsiders, I found a new sense of purpose in my life. I had duties and responsibilities here. Ken was confined to the neighborhood and was given an important position within the executive committee. I saw our future as being better than the past.”
“Okay,” Ashby said, just to let Stephanie know she was paying attention when she really felt the window of opportunity closing on her ability to ask for the keys to the SUV.
Then, Stephanie said something totally out of left field. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
“Oh?”
“Ashby, our marriage sucked before the collapse and it still does.” Stephanie swallowed the last of the wine in a huge gulp and then lifted the glass to her right eye to confirm her drunken mind’s suspicion — it was empty. With a frown, she continued. “Here are the facts, and only the facts, ma’am.” Stephanie giggled as she set her glass on Ken’s desk, barely making it to the edge.
Ashby hopped up and pulled the glass to safety. Then she had an underhanded thought. Now, was not the time to obey the rules of the alcoholic’s road. If Stephanie needed to steel her nerves to spill the tea, Ashby planned on helping her along.
“Let me refill this for you, honey.”
Stephanie pointed her finger at Ashly repeatedly. “See. See. This is why I love you.”
Ashby hustled to the kitchen and retrieved the half full bottle of wine. She returned and filled the glass, sliding it in front of Stephanie as she continued her story.
“Ken is a lying, stealing, crooked, adulterer. You know why he isn’t a city councilman anymore?” Stephanie paused, closed one eye, and took a big swig of wine. She didn’t wait for Ashby to respond as this was a one-sided conversation.
“He didn’t run for reelection to pursue other interests, as he told the press. He was being investigated for taking bribes and kickbacks.”
Stephanie waved the glass around the room, spilling some on the floor in the process.
“This house, the Caddys, that damn boat. All of it came from people who greased Ken’s palms. Through it all, I kept my mouth shut because I was just as guilty. I enjoyed the fruits of his labor. I liked the stuff, too, you know.”
Ashby didn’t know what to say. She continued to appear attentive.
“Girlfriends, too,” Stephanie continued to lament her life. “Bank chicks. Gym chicks. Hookers. The maid. You name it. He had all kinds, bought and paid for with the money he made by selling access to power.”
Ashby felt bad for her and said, “Stephanie, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
“Here’s the thing, Ken didn’t change one bit. He skimmed extra food from the community. He’s been going into vacant homes looking for valuables. And, I’m sure of this, he’s still screwing around on me.”
“With someone here?” asked Ashby.
Stephanie’s words were becoming less coherent as she became more and more distraught. “No. No. He doesn’t dip his candle in the wax, or whatever that saying is. He takes them to condos, hotels, and his beloved boat. The one he claims he bought for us, but I’ve never been two miles into the ocean on.”
Ashby perked up in her chair. “Stephanie, do you think Ken has simply run off? Maybe with another woman?”
A drunken, sly look came over Stephanie’s face as she slowly nodded her head up and down. “Can I trust you, Ashby?’
“Of course.”
“Please don’t tell the others,” she began, spilling more wine as she waved her glass around. She let out a giggle and downed the remainder of that glass to avoid future mishaps. “If Ken has disappeared, he did it in on his own with some hussy.”
“I won’t tell anyone, but they will continue looking for him.”
“I think they’re looking in the wrong place. They need to go to Moss Landing but I don’t want them to find out the truth. Not because of that jerk off. It would be embarrassing to me.”
“What’s Moss Landing? A condo or something?”
Stephanie whipped her right arm toward the picture of the motor yacht next to the window. “The love boat. His floating fun house. Whatever you wanna call it.”
Ashby stood and walked toward the picture again. She smiled and then turned to Stephanie. She approached the distraught woman and kneeled down next to the chair in a subservient pose, so she was looking up when she spoke.
“I can keep a secret, if you can
. You’re my best friend and I have an idea. What if Jake and I drive down to this Moss Landing place and see if Ken is on the boat? Would that give you some peace of mind?”
Stephanie began to cry. “Yes. I just have to know, Ashby. If our marriage is a lie, I want to know so I don’t believe in fairy tales and happy endings.”
Ashby took Stephanie’s hands and squeezed them. “We’ll help you and keep it quiet too. Now, tell me about this boat.”
Stephanie reached out to touch Ashby’s face and whispered, “Thank you.” She stood up from the chair and made her way to a file cabinet, using the desk as a guide to avoid tipping over. She thumbed through the folders until she found the one labeled Grand Banks 60 and handed it to Ashby.
Ashby walked toward the window and studied the contents. It contained the registration, brochures, and receipts related to repairs. She took a deep breath. What happened next would dictate her future with Jake.
“Stephanie, do you have the —?” Ashby began to ask as she turned around.
Stephanie had opened a drawer to Ken’s desk and extended her arm toward Ashby.
“Keys?” she slurred. “Yes. If you catch the S-O-B in the act, just tell me, okay?”
“I will,” Ashby lied. She had no intention of seeing Stephanie Kennedy again, or coming back to Fruitvale West. “Stephanie, if we’re going to keep this quiet from the neighbors, I need to be sneaky about it, right?”
She giggled. “Of course. I like it.”
“May we borrow Ken’s truck?”
Stephanie rummaged around the desk drawer again and produced the Escalade’s keys. “It’s full of gas, too. Another perk of our new jobs.”
Ashby took the keys and gave Stephanie a hug. She filled her glass with the last of the wine and took her to the sitting area of her master bedroom. It wouldn’t be long before Stephanie passed out from emotional exhaustion and a bottle of cabernet.
Chapter 45
Fruitvale West
Saratoga, California
