by James Ross
“Five thousand?” Lester J guessed.
Rico nodded and looked at Bazz. Not wanting to hear the shrill again he said, “Yeah.”
“So that’s it,” Lester J said.
Rico replied, “Yeah.”
Bazz got up abruptly. “They’re waiting on us.”
“Who?”
Bazz responded, “The guys in the video recording studio. They want to record the statement.” He continued to the door. “Let’s go. We’ll record the confession and get it to the prosecutor. My guess is that he’ll charge you with second degree murder so you can escape the needle and maybe he’ll drop the conspiracy to commit murder charge since you’re cooperating.”
After fourteen hours of intense interrogation Rico Avila was arrested and charged with second degree murder. His role in the murder-for-hire scheme? The triggerman. With testimony he would avoid death by lethal injection in the State of Missouri. He could expect a sentence of twenty-four years once he formally agreed to testify for the state.
Not once did Rico ask for the questioning to stop. Not once did Rico refuse to take the polygraph. The one time he suggested he wanted a lawyer he was persuaded into reconsidering.
Chapter Ninety
In the well-to-do part of town, Shari Daniels-Donnelly was oblivious to what was going on at the St. Louis County Police Department. She was finishing preparations for Kara’s wedding that was a couple weeks away and packing for her trip to Muscle Shoals, Alabama. The executive par-3 course at The Classic was the site of the SPRITZ Challenge.
Tyler Cy had regained his mobility. It had been almost a year since he had been placed under the knife, and thanks to his faithful rehab regiment he was getting around fine, albeit a little gingerly. He still occupied the lower level.
Upstairs, Shari and Kara faced off across the breakfast island. With a glass of Chardonnay in her left hand and a lit cigarette in her right Shari’s opinionated voice could be heard all the way downstairs. “No, we’re not going to get the band that you want for the reception,” Shari yelled at Kara. “Del’s band is going to play.”
“But, Mom, that’s not the type of music we want to have.”
“I don’t care. I want to give him the opportunity to play for all of my guests.”
“Why does it have to be all about you?”
“Because I’m paying for it.”
“I thought Dad was.”
“Who do you think put the pressure on him to foot the bill? I was the one that had to have the lawyers put it in the settlement.”
“He always told me that I could do what I want.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve never done anything like this before.”
“What makes you the expert?”
“I have a lot of friends that I’ve invited. I’ve gone to all of the weddings that they have planned for their kids. I seen what they done. Your mother knows best.”
Kara stomped into the great room. “You’ve picked out my dress. It wasn’t the one I wanted.”
“Yes and your dad paid $15,000 for it.” Shari walked after her. “You’ll look beautiful in it.”
“You’ve picked all of the food for the reception.”
“Like I said, I seen what they do at other weddings and know what is best. I’ve stolen all of the good ideas from the others and got rid of the things that don’t work.”
“You insisted on a buffet line.”
“It offers variety and is more efficient.”
“I thought we were going to have the reception at Olde Blueblood.”
“Don’t blame me. That’s not my fault. Blame your father for that. He was the one that cancelled the membership. If I could have my way, we’d go back there.”
“I’m worried that some of my friends will be too drunk to drive home from that different country club.”
“We had to switch the party there because we’re not allowed on Olde Blueblood’s property. I’ve gotten taxis to take them home if they get too drunk. If they don’t like that then they can stay the night at the hotel. I’ve reserved a lot of rooms.”
“Jake and I didn’t get a chance to pick where we wanted to go on our honeymoon.”
“That’s because I’ve traveled to many places and I know what you’ll like.” Shari patted her daughter’s shoulders in an attempt to pacify her. “You’ll love the resorts at Los Cabos. Being on the Baja peninsula is romantic. You’ll have a view of the Pacific and Sea of Cortez.” Shari smiled at her daughter. “Besides, I want a granddaughter.”
“That’s not the reason we’re going, Mom. We want to have fun.”
“Believe me, you will. When I went there with the girls we had the time of our lives.”
“Sometimes I think this is more about you than it is for me.”
“Trust me. I’m taking care of my baby.” After the faceoff Shari reached out to hug Kara. The two embraced before she turned to leave.
“You’re only going to be gone for three days, right?”
“Yes, but I’ve got to pack. I’m going to The Classic tomorrow to play the SPRITZ Challenge. Hopefully I’ll win a million and that would give you a nice wedding present.” Shari stopped. “Don’t worry about anything for the wedding. I’ve got it all planned out. Besides, it’s too late to change anything anyway. I’ll be gone this weekend and back on Tuesday night.” Shari headed up the stairs. “Ten days from now you’ll be married and off to the Baja.”
Chapter Ninety-One
Drive time to Muscle Shoals from St. Louis was about six hours. Shari didn’t want to travel that way so she arranged for Tyler Cy to charter a flight. Since he was paying for it, Tyler Cy decided that he would go and watch. Curt was invited to fly as well since he was going to be Shari’s caddie.
Even though Shari wasn’t excited to be traveling with her husband she was jubilant to have the chance to win a million dollars. She assured Tyler Cy that she would compensate him for the flight if she happened to win. Flight time was about an hour, and it sure beat sitting in the car for half of a day.
The Classic was the greatest event in the history of golf. It was held during the first weekend in May each year. Players would arrive on Sunday night and enjoy a few days of practice rounds. Spectators would arrive from all over the country just to watch the best golfers in the world practice. RV parks were packed. Hotel room rates quadrupled. Private jets occupied the available tarmac at the airport.
On Monday, the pros would participate in a long-drive contest. On Tuesday the SPRITZ challenge was to be played on the executive course. On Wednesday the pros would play the executive course in a par-3 competition and use it as a final warm-up. On Thursday the tournament would begin and last through the weekend. The winner would win the prized fedora with a blue plume, a sizeable monetary prize, and endorsements from almost every golf equipment manufacturer in the world.
Just to be on the grounds was special. Tickets sold for $1,000 per day—even for the practice rounds. The property was pristine. Every grain of sand, every blade of grass, and every drop of water were perfectly placed as if brushed on by an artist. The best golfers in the world would compete. A worldwide audience would demand a commercial-free presentation from the broadcast media.
Shari dug into her purse and took out her makeup kit. She heightened her cheek color, perfected the eyeliner, and added a touch of eye shadow. MAC, Revlon, Clinique and L’OREAL were glad to have her as a customer.
While in flight Curt produced a layout of the par-3 course. Shari’s handicap index was converted to the slope of the course which measured the difficulty. She was to get 8 strokes which meant she would have to shoot at least a 62 on the par-54 course. If the greens were anything like the greens on the course that the pros would play, then the Stimpmeter would be in the 14 range.
“Have you been practicing on the garage floor?” Curt asked.
“I’ve put a lot of time in,” Shari responded. “When it was cold out I took advantage of the time inside.”
“No
t as much as you could have,” Tyler Cy said.
“If we wanted your input we would have asked you,” Shari barked. “This is a conversation between me and my caddie and coach,” Shari said. “Move on up to the front so we can talk.” The cabin was small. Any movement meant that Tyler Cy could only move a few feet. Curt gave him a helpless look.
“You should be able to reach all of these greens. We’ve gone through all of this before,” Curt said. “There are two of them that will play over 200 yards from the up tees, but all the rest of them will be between 100 and 175 yards.” He rolled out the layout for Shari to see. “There is some water.” He gestured with his hand. “It looks like four of them border lakes and three of them have a creek nearby.”
“I’ll have to stay out of those or I could shoot myself out of the million.”
“I echo those words,” Curt agreed, “but just as important, you will have to keep the ball below the pin. J Dub has been on the course before and he said that if you have a downhill putt it is almost impossible to stop. It’s like rolling the ball down a wall. Three putts on a green will kill your score just as quickly.”
“Remind me about the greens and give me the right yardage to the hole.” Shari got up abruptly, moved carefully around the cramped space, and retrieved her carry-on luggage. She flipped through some garments and settled on a short black golf and tennis skort – a hybrid of skirt and shorts. “Do you like this? I got it shipped in from London.”
The men nodded. “That’s fashionable.”
“I thought a lighter color would make my ass look big. I seen where the TV puts on weight. That’s why I chose this.”
“Let’s win a million bucks,” Curt urged, “and worry about appearances later.”
“But I want to look nice on TV.” Shari returned to her luggage and pulled out several ladies golf shirts in various styles. “I settled on Polo, but I can’t decide which one to wear.” She showed the guys her selections. “What do you like best, Curt? We’re going to be side by side.” Before he could answer she held them in front of her torso. “Do you like the neon green or hot pink?” She grabbed another blouse. “Or how about this canary yellow sleeveless look?” Before the guys could offer an opinion it was discarded for an electric blue blouse with a plunging V-shaped neckline. “I kind of like this one. With the right bra I can leave a button or two undone.”
Curt nodded approval.
“It’s all about image, isn’t it?” Shari gave Curt an alluring smile. “I want the whole world pulling for me.”
Chapter Ninety-Two
The weather was perfect for the Tuesday SPRITZ Challenge. Temperatures promised to be in the mid-80s for the golf match. Only a few clouds dotted the sky. The humidity was low, as was the wind.
Shari stayed in one of the bed and breakfast cottages that were provided on site. She was up early to make sure her hair was perfectly coiffed. A great deal of time was given to her makeup as a cigarette constantly burned in a nearby ashtray. She slipped on silver-dollar sized white earrings and her customary nine rings. Curt would not be pleased.
After wriggling her bottom into the black skort, she slipped on a bra that magnified her already augmented breasts. The electric blue golf blouse was unbuttoned enough to offer an ample peek. After slipping on a pair of pom pom socks, Shari slipped into her fashionable new golf shoes. Next came the visor and mirror.
Out the door she went.
Spectators who had come for the practice round flooded the grounds. A special area had been roped off for her to warm up on the driving range. The bank of bleachers packed with golf addicts was intimidating, but at the same time fueled her ego. Stepping onto the tee with the golfing greats that were on the professional tour was exciting. Curt was waiting for her in the roped off area.
“You look spectacular,” he commented.
“I just threw something together.” Curt knew better of course.
“I like the shoes.”
“Do you like? They’re Sesto Meucci from Italy. I like the low cut under the ankle.”
Curt’s immediate thought was that they must have set her back close to a thousand bucks. His eyes traveled quickly up her tanning-booth-tanned legs to her athletic butt, obvious cleavage, and finally settled on her face.
When their eyes met, Shari smiled. “Do you approve?”
“If your game doesn’t dazzle the crowd at least your appearance will.” He rolled some practice balls onto the turf. “Okay. Let’s practice like you want to win a million today.”
Shari stretched to the delight of the nearby crowd of onlookers. She was doing her part to attract a large gallery to the SPRITZ Challenge. Subtle whistles and catcalls ripped through the warm air.
Twenty minutes on the range was enough. Shari, with Curt in tow, walked to the practice green. “We need to get a feel for the speed of these greens,” Curt stressed. Shari started with putts of three feet. Curt squatted behind the cup and rolled the balls back to her after they dropped into the hole. Gradually the length increased. After Shari mastered the lag putting stroke the duo moved to the first tee on the executive course.
Jack Cramer, President and CEO of SPRITZ, was there to meet the contestant. His toupee tipped his age. He was sixty trying to look forty. His sidekick was Gary Linton who was VP of Marketing for SPRITZ. The bald, rotund executive was gregarious. The promotion was his idea and for all outward appearances it had been successfully received. Many in the gallery held bottled water with the SPRITZ label.
On hand to broadcast the event were Trent Tee, the voice of American golf, and his color commentator and two-time winner of The Classic, Englishman Callum Foss. The pair had broadcast the golfing action for years on TV and agreed to do the SPRITZ event as a warm-up to the main action.
“We declare a day like this back home as summer,” Callum started.
“Who would have ever thought that putting water in a bottle would have become so popular?” Trent continued.
“It looks like the sponsor has found a nice piece of advertising,” Callum said. “If she doesn’t win the pot today maybe they’ll give her a million bucks to be their spokesperson.”
“Of course, for those that aren’t familiar with what Callum is talking about, he is referring to Shari Daniels-Donnelly from suburban St. Louis who is the contestant in the SPRITZ Challenge. All she has to do is play to her handicap index today on the par-3 executive course here at The Classic.”
“The course plays to a par 54. That is eighteen par three holes. The young lady has to shoot at least a 62 which is an eight handicap.”
“She’s a good player in her own right,” Trent added.
“And if her game holds up under this pressure, she’ll take home a million dollars.”
“That will be something to see, Callum.”
“And taking a look at her, I’m looking forward to watching.”
After meeting the executives and getting introduced, Shari prepared to hit off of the first tee. If she was nervous it didn’t look like it. She took a ball from Curt, placed it on a tee, relaxed with a couple of practice swings and smoothly hit the ball onto the middle of the green.
“This is a gentle start to the round,” Trent said.
“It’s an easy 160-yard shot that plays downhill. You can tell that she has had a club in her hand before. That shot was jolly good. It appears that she has left herself about a twenty foot putt for birdie.”
Shari lagged the first putt to within a foot of the cup and easily tapped in for a par to start the round.
“That’s like having a Horlicks.”
“What in the world are you referring to, Callum?”
“Oh, that’s been around for years, Trent. It’s a malted milk drink to relax. A par on the first hole will keep her loose.”
Evidently the good fortune on the first hole did the trick. Shari made it through the first nine holes on pace. She shot a four-over par 31 and needed to match that score on the back to win a million.
Chapter Ninety-Three
“This bint has some goolies, Trent. If her conker doesn’t break up she’ll take home the prize,” Callum said as Shari walked off the ninth green.
“What in the world is a conker?” Trent asked.
“Oh, it’s too much to explain to you Yanks,” the Englishman said. “It’s a game that we play back home as kids.”
Shari made her way to the 10th tee as Tyler Cy drove by on a cart equipped with a handicap flag. He flashed a thumbs-up. “Look how silly he looks,” Shari said to Curt. “Everybody else out here is walking and he’s riding around like he’s somebody important.”
“There’s no need to focus your energy on him,” Curt instructed. “You’ve got nine holes left.”
“How can I not notice him? He’s got that loud shirt on that’s screaming for attention. Doesn’t he know the gallery isn’t interested in him? I seen some people that need to steal the show, but today is my day, not his.”
“Just try to control the things that you can control,” Curt said as he pulled the yardage book out of his back pocket. “We’ve got 187 yards here with a creek on the right. Anything right of the pin will drift that way.”
Shari looked at the green complex. “Are you thinking a 5 wood?”
“Yes, that’s the club.”
Shari took the head cover off the wood, placed her tee in the ground, and took two practice swings. She addressed the ball and took a smooth swing.”
“Oh no!” Callum screamed. “She’s left it right.”
“It didn’t look like she got all the way through the ball,” Trent added.
“She didn’t,” Callum concurred.
“We haven’t seen that from her all day. I wonder if the pressure is getting to her.”
The pair watched as the ball hit right of the green, took a vicious bounce, and settled in the bottom of the creek. “She dropped a clanger there. She’ll be jammy if she gets it up and down from there. That grass in the drop area is as thick as black pudding.” The pair looked on as Shari shot a hateful glance at Tyler Cy. “She looks to be cheesed off about something.”
