The Ice Man

by Philip Carlo

  It was now that Richard met Barbara Pedrici, and everything suddenly changed. The world he had known became a very different place.

  PART II

  BARBARA

  Bambi Meets the Ice Man

  Barbara Pedrici was a tall, curvaceous eighteen-year-old Italian American with black hair, intense hazel-colored eyes, and a perfectly formed aquiline nose. In her stocking feet she was five feet ten, comfortable in her own skin, a natural air of affluence and superiority about her.

  Barbara’s father had come to New Jersey from the northern Italian city of Venice, her mother’s family hailed from the lovely port city of Naples. Barbara had recently graduated high school and was not quite sure what she wanted to do with herself. She toyed with the idea of going to college to pursue a career as an artist, but her mother thought that “a waste of time” and wanted Barbara to get a job, find a man, get married, and have children. She even offered to buy Barbara a car if she did not attend college. Barbara refused.

  Barbara and her mother did not get along well. Barbara was an only child; her parents had divorced when she was two years old. She was brought up by Nana Carmella—her mother’s mother—and her mother’s sister Sadie, both of whom were always doting on Barbara, giving her what she wanted, when she wanted it. Thus Barbara had become a bit spoiled; early on in life she learned that if she wanted something, she got it. Nothing was ever denied her. All she had to do was ask, and keep asking until it was hers.

  Barbara’s mother, Genevieve, was a cold, austere woman, a stick-in-the-mud, as Barbara recently put it. Genevieve rarely smiled, didn’t show much affection. She worked hard as a seamstress in a factory in North Bergen and never seemed to have time or a kind word for her only child. It was as if she had never really wanted children, that her daughter was an inconvenience life had dealt her.

  Barbara, though, was extremely close to her grandmother and her aunt Sadie. Sadie had a bad heart condition and couldn’t work, and her life was all about pleasing Barbara, giving to Barbara, making sure Barbara had whatever she wanted. Both Carmella and Sadie were warm and effusive, whereas Genevieve was cold and distant…not quite there.

  Barbara was popular and gregarious, had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. She loved music, shopping, going to the movies with her girlfriends. She led a very sheltered life, had never been outside of New Jersey (except to visit her father in Florida), and knew absolutely nothing of the world that Richard Kuklinski came from.

  Barbara went along with her friend Lucille when she responded to an ad for a secretary placed by the Swiftline Trucking Company that fall. As Barbara was waiting for her friend in the lobby, the owner of the company, Sol Goldfarb, saw Barbara and walked over to her.

  “You look,” he said, “just like my daughter.”

  “Really,” said Barbara, and they began talking; he explained that his daughter was deaf and mute.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Barbara said. He invited her into his office. Goldfarb was a tall, attractive man with dark hair and eyes, a sharp dresser. He worked hard, did well in business, made a lot of money. He was so taken by Barbara and how she resembled his daughter that he offered an accounting job there on the spot, which she accepted. Though she had absolutely no office experience, Barbara was a quick study; she had a high IQ and was readily able to master and perfect all that was required. She had always gotten good grades in school with little effort. This was her first real job. She enjoyed making her own money, enjoyed entering the workforce, having the responsibility of an adult and the independence that brought.

  There was a soda machine at the trucking company and it was there that Barbara first encountered Richard Leonard Kuklinski. They said hello, smiled, and went back to work. They next ran into each other on the loading port, exchanged a few words about the weather; that was it. Mr. Goldfarb saw them talking and didn’t like it. Right away he went over to Barbara and, like a concerned parent, warned her to stay away from Richard. He said, “Look, I know you’re a nice girl, an innocent girl. Don’t have anything to do with that guy. He’s a lug; he’s married with kids.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” she explained, taken aback. “We were just, you know, talking about the weather.”

  “Okay, well, that’s good. Just stay away from him.”

  “Certainly…of course, okay,” she said, caught a bit off guard. She’d had no designs on Richard; the thought of getting involved with him had never even entered her mind. The matter would surely have died right there had Goldfarb not pursued it further. He now called Richard into his office and said: “Look, Kuklinski, I don’t want you associating with the help, see.”

  “Excuse me, what’re you talking about?” Richard asked.

  “Barbara—stay away from her.”

  This also caught Richard completely off guard. He hadn’t even thought about making a pass at Barbara. She was not his type. He’d never even known a girl like her—a good girl from a nice family, as it were.

  Always defiant, always a chip on his shoulder, Richard said: “You know, it’s a free country. People’re allowed to talk to whoever they please.”

  “I see you talking to her again, you’re fired,” Goldfarb said.

  This was like a stinging slap in Richard’s surprised face.

  “Take this fuckin’ job and shove it up your pompous ass,” Richard said, making that soft clicking sound out of the left side of his mouth, his face flushing.

  “Get off this property,” Goldfarb said, standing up.

  If Goldfarb had known he was talking to a genuine, raging psychopath, he would surely never have taken such an aggressive tone. Richard killed people for less than this.

  “You owe me money,” Richard said.

  “Come back later today and you’ll get your money. Outta here.”

  Richard stared at him long and hard. “I’ll be back,” Richard said and left.

  Richard’s plan was to kill Goldfarb that very night. He was going to follow him home and beat him to death right at his front door. Who the fuck did he think he was? Nobody talked to Richard Kuklinski like that. Without knowing it, Goldfarb had signed his own death warrant.

  At four o’clock Richard was back, looking for his money. As he was waiting for a check, Barbara came walking out of the offices to get herself a Coke from the machine. Richard now told her how he’d gotten fired for talking to her.

  “What?” she said, not believing this, having difficulty even comprehending such a thing.

  “I got fired because I was talking to you,” he repeated.

  She felt terrible. The poor guy, she knew, hadn’t done anything out of line, had never even intimated he wanted to take her out. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll go talk to him right now. I’ll get your job back. This is outrageous.”

  “That’s okay—forget about it. I didn’t want to work here anyway.”

  “Jeez, I feel so bad.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “He says I look just like his daughter; I’m sure this is what it’s about.”

  “To hell with him—the pig.”

  “Would you like to have coffee later?” Barbara said, wanting to be nice to Richard because he’d got canned for talking to her, lost his livelihood because of her, she thought.

  “Sure, yeah; I’d like that,” he said.

  “Come back at five. I’ll meet you out front, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, liking the fact that Barbara wanted to stand up for him, was willing to meet him right out front. He soon got his check and left.

  Had Barbara known who Richard really was, that he was a genuine wolf in sheep’s clothing, she would surely have run the other way, had absolutely nothing to do with him. As it was, she fixed herself after work, combed her hair, put on a little makeup, and went to meet Richard in front of the Swiftline Trucking Company.

  Worst mistake I ever made, she would say many years later, still shaking her head in disbelief. I should’ve run for the hills, but instead I walked outside like a la
mb to the slaughter.

  Richard was tall and exceptionally handsome, shy and respectful, but he was not Barbara’s type, and he was too old for her. Still, they did go for coffee that windy fall day, had a nice talk. He opened doors for her, was truly the perfect gentleman, polite to the point of distraction, even too much of a gentleman. Barbara sensed—mistakenly—that she could readily control him, and she didn’t like that. She liked strong men, take-charge kind of men. Be that as it may, after their coffee, he made sure she got home okay. He insisted on taking her. He asked her if she’d like to go see a movie when they reached the home she shared with her mother and grandmother. Her aunt Sadie had moved out, now lived nearby with her husband, Harry.

  “Sure, okay,” she said, as innocent and wide-eyed as a young fawn suddenly caught in the oncoming headlights of a speeding car. A car coming from hell driven by the devil himself.

  Possession

  That Saturday evening Richard showed up at Nana Carmella’s house. Shy and awkward, he met Barbara’s mom and grandmother. They thought he was nice enough, certainly tall and handsome, but he was too old for Barbara, and he wasn’t Italian. They went to a movie in nearby North Bergen, saw Godzilla and a few cartoons, one of which featured Casper the Friendly Ghost. Barbara offhandedly mentioned to Richard that she liked Casper. After the movie they went for pizza, sat and talked. Barbara still felt bad about Richard’s losing his job because of her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and meant it.

  Richard was completely taken by Barbara. He thought she was a perfect lady, all class, polite, well-spoken and very funny. She was always making wisecracks that made him laugh, no easy thing. Barbara had no romantic designs on Richard. She did think he was very attractive, had a lovely smile, engaging honey-colored eyes. But he was married, had kids…and he was too old for her; not her type.

  He told her that his marriage was, in fact, on the rocks; that he barely ever saw his wife and kids; that he was getting divorced, which was essentially all true, and Barbara believed him, took him at his word. Why shouldn’t she? There was no reason for him to lie. Plus, lies and deceit had never played a part in her short life. They were foreign to her. When they left the pizza parlor, Richard made sure he opened the door, and he hurried to open the door for her when she got into his car, an old Chevy. In front of Nana Carmella’s house, he didn’t try to kiss her good night, was too shy. She thanked him for a nice evening and went inside, not sure she’d ever see him again.

  As Richard made his way back to Jersey City, he couldn’t stop thinking of Barbara, her smile, her lovely eyes, how her dark hair contrasted with her fair skin. It was as if someone had put a spell on him, as if Cupid had shot him with an arrow, a particularly pointed arrow. Until then Richard had only known “bar women.” Women who were loose, whores and tramps, as he thought of them. He also met many married women who fucked like rabbits in heat when their husbands weren’t around, he says.

  Richard had grown to think of most women—certainly his own mother—as whores. He would never forget his mother screwing the next-door neighbor, a slovenly guy with three kids, right in the middle of the afternoon. That image, her naked with her legs wide open, her feet up in the air, was seared into his strange mind.

  But not Barbara; she was different; she was good and innocent and pure as the driven snow. He wanted her, he resolved. He’d move heaven and hell to get her. But how? he wondered. How could he get her to fall for him? He didn’t have much to offer her. This was a dilemma. Still, he wanted to own her, possess her, to make her his.

  But how?

  That night when Barbara went inside, her mother immediately started complaining about Richard: he was too old for her; he lived in Jersey City; he seemed rough around the edges; he was not Italian. Biggest sin of all. Nana Carmella had nothing to say. If Barbara liked him, he was fine with her. Aunt Sadie, however, would have much to say. She would hire a private detective to look into this Richard Kuklinski of Jersey City.

  It was Sunday morning, an unusually cold fall day. Barbara liked to sleep late on Sundays. She was still sound asleep when her mother shook her and woke her up with some urgency.

  “That man you went out with last night is here,” she said, obviously not pleased about it.

  “Here, where?”

  “Downstairs!”

  “Richard?”

  “Yes.”

  Surprised to the point of shock, Barbara climbed out of bed, freshened up, and went downstairs. She found Richard sitting in the living room. He popped up when he saw her. In his left hand he had a big bouquet of flowers, and in his right hand a white stuffed toy: Casper the Friendly Ghost.

  Speechless, though touched, Barbara just stood there, her mouth slightly agape. No one had ever paid such attention to her. What was this about?

  “I’m sorry I woke you up,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “That’s…that’s okay. How thoughtful of you,” she said, taking the flowers and Casper, smiling politely.

  Richard had never courted a girl in his life; he had no idea how it was done, what was good form and what was not. Barbara offered him some coffee and put the nice roses in a vase. This was also another first—no boy had ever given her flowers.

  It was painfully obvious to Genevieve that this Polish guy from Jersey City, certainly an undesirable place filled with ruffians, had designs on her daughter—her only child—and she didn’t like it. Her daughter was good girl, a virgin…. Where did this guy get off coming around early Sunday morning with flowers and lovesick eyes? Genevieve believed an older guy like him was after one thing—sex; and he wasn’t going to get any of that from her daughter, her Barbara. Forget it.

  Genevieve was cold and indifferent to Richard, and Barbara knew it was best to get him out of the house, away from her mother, ASAP. She showered and dressed, and she and Richard left. They went to Journal Square in Jersey City, a main shopping street lined with beautiful old art deco movie houses—the Loews and the Stanley—and all kinds of nice shops. They went for a Sunday brunch at an Italian restaurant called Guido’s, walked up and down the wide street looking in store windows and talking.

  Richard felt close to Barbara, as if he’d known her a long time. For some inexplicable reason he…he trusted her. They even talked about sex that day, and Barbara told him she was a virgin and was proud of it. This really bowled Richard over. How could a girl so attractive, so sexy and desirable, still be a virgin? That didn’t make sense, he thought, and told her so.

  “Yeah, well I am,” she said, adamant, not pleased he didn’t take her word, but in truth he did believe her, and that made him want her all the more. She really was, he was more sure than ever, a good girl—someone he could trust. They saw another movie, Otto Preminger’s Exodus, and Richard took Barbara back home. He tried now to kiss her good night but she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t invite him inside; she wanted to keep him and her mother apart.

  That Monday, when Barbara left work, Richard was outside waiting for her, and he had still more flowers with him.

  This all caught her off guard, made her…a little uneasy. There was no plan for him to be here, but here he was insisting on taking her home, and of course she had to get into his car; after all, he was only being nice. How could she decline? She did have plans to meet a girlfriend and go to the record shop, but now that had to be scrapped.

  Barbara recently explained, If I’d had any sense I would’ve seen the handwriting on the wall then and there and ended it. But I’d never met anyone like Richard…so…attentive, and I had no real point of reference.

  Barbara went to the record shop in North Bergen with Richard and he insisted that she let him buy her the records she wanted. She tried to pay but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Forget it, let me…. I want to,” he told her.

  When he took her home, Nana Carmella saw them and made him come in for dinner. Barbara had to go along with this, though she felt his presence was being forced on her. Geneviev
e worked hard all day and had no real interest in cooking, but Grandmother Carmella was an amazingly good cook, and she served up eggplant parmesan, no big deal, but Richard raved about how good it was.

  Genevieve was not thrilled he was there—she knew what he was after; but she tolerated him and was…pleasant enough. After dinner and some sweets Nana Carmella had made, they sat in the living room and watched The Sid Caesar Show, everyone but Genevieve laughing out loud. Though shy and awkward, Richard felt oddly at ease, felt at home. He’d never in his life been around a family that wasn’t severely dysfunctional, and he admired the warmth in Barbara’s home. He wanted this for himself. He’d do anything he had to do to get it. Nothing would stop him from having Barbara—from having his own family with Barbara.

  He came to view Barbara as a valuable means to an end, sure she could show him a part of life he knew nothing about. He could, he was equally sure, know real love if he made Barbara his. He didn’t so much see her as an intelligent, independent woman; he saw her as a potential possession, a thing to acquire, own and control, hang above the mantel; a prized trophy everyone could admire.

  Outwardly, Richard was a perfect gentleman, soft-spoken, fervently polite; inside he was a churning volcano…intent upon owning and possessing Barbara Pedrici, no matter what. His wife, Linda, was forgotten; a thing of the past.

  Every day when Barbara left work, Richard was there. She quickly became so used to his presence that she began to take it for granted, accept it; she didn’t tell him she had other plans; she didn’t tell him that she wanted to go shopping with her friends, hang out and talk and have fun with the girls. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. As it happened, Richard didn’t even give her the chance to protest; he was just always there with that handsome face and those intense almond-shaped eyes, flowers, his shy smile, his polite ways. How could she say no? How could she resist him? In fact, she began to grow fond of his undivided attention. After all, he was a handsome older guy, obviously nuts about her, and she felt…well, she felt flattered. The attention and the admiration appealed to her ego; none of her friends had a tall, gorgeous older guy waiting on them, always there, opening doors, being polite, a caring, considerate gentleman out to please.