Unleashed - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part 2

by Duncan Whitehead

  “He is coming over,” said Cindy excitedly. “Isn’t it great to meet new friends? He looks dapper, just the sort of person this place needs,” she beamed. Once again, neither Carla nor Heidi replied.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” said the man as he approached the picnic table where the ladies sat. “I hope I am not intruding on your afternoon,” he said politely, his accent thick, though his English was perfect. He offered his hand first to Heidi, then to Carla and Cindy in turn and then bowed his head.

  “No, please join us,” said Cindy with a welcoming smile. “I’m Cindy,” she said, and turning to her friends, she said, “and these are my friends Heidi and Carla.”

  The old man nodded and continued to smile. “Ah, yes, the famous ‘Dog Walking Club’ — I was told many things about you. Good things, from the lady whose home I have rented. I am told you are the ears and the eyes of the neighborhood. I am Stefan, and I recently moved into a quite beautiful home on Henry Street.” He took a deep breath and sucked in the warm afternoon air. “I love this weather, this temperature, we are lucky, no? To have at our disposal such a beautiful park?”

  It was Heidi who spoke first. “Well, yes we are, as long as we keep the riff-raff out. You know, those that don’t belong.” She took a sip of her cocktail and eyed Stefan suspiciously.

  “It is good to know then that you are here,” replied Stefan, “watching out for the so called ‘riff-raff’ and those who don’t belong. I feel safe and secure in the knowledge that this place is so well protected.”

  Heidi detected sarcasm in the man’s voice, but ignored it, and she doubted that either of her friends had even noticed. She was, however, too busy trying to pinpoint his accent to respond to his rudeness. European, obviously, eastern most definitely.

  Carla spoke next. “Stefan, if I may call you Stefan, your accent, it is very interesting, very exotic if I must say. Where are you from?”

  Cindy smiled to herself. That was Carla, flirting as usual, but when before Cindy would have been angered and outraged by her friend's obvious flirtation, she now saw it as harmless, as no longer a threat to her, and anyway, this one was too old for her, let alone Carla. He was more Heidi’s type.

  “I am from the Ukraine,” replied Stefan. “Kiev. Have you ever been?” he asked Carla, briefly glancing at her chest, before regaining eye contact.

  Carla smiled. Even this old man found her attractive, just like them all. She hadn’t failed to notice him looking at her fake boobs.

  “I haven’t,” replied Carla. “I have never been to Europe. I would like to though, one day. Heidi has been though, haven’t you?” said Carla, indicating towards Heidi.

  “You have been to Kiev?” asked Stefan, staring at Heidi, and not for one minute averting his gaze to her chest, or any other part of her body.

  “No, I haven’t. I have, of course, been to Europe, many, many times,” answered Heidi coldly.

  “She is from Europe,” added Cindy. “Where is it you are from again?”

  Heidi wasn’t at all pleased that her two friends appeared to be diverting all attention towards her. Were they match making? Trying to somehow set her up with this stranger? Heidi didn’t like questions, especially questions about her past.

  “Austria,” replied Heidi. “I was born in Austria, Vienna, if you must know.”

  “Vienna,” said Stefan, still staring directly at Heidi. “I hear it is a lovely place, lovely people, so I am told.”

  Heidi did not reply. Still staring back at Stefan, she took a swig of her beverage.

  Stefan once again smiled and ceased focusing his attention on Heidi. He took a seat at the picnic table next to Cindy and addressed the group collectively.

  “My wife died a year ago. She had been sick for some time. Since then I have been alone. It is cold in Kiev, very cold, and my old bones don’t appreciate the ice and snow these days. So, I seek out warmer climates. I travel much, but this is my first time in your beautiful country. I am only here for a month, maybe two, then I will continue my journey, renting homes for short times as I see the world, meet new friends, and, like today, two charming ‘Southern Belles’ and one,” he turned to face Heidi, “Bavarian Beauty.”

  Carla and Cindy looked at each other and smiled. What an absolutely charming and delightful man, thought Cindy. So polite, so sophisticated; what a great addition he would be to Gordonston.

  Carla also found Stefan charming. Maybe he was a little older, maybe he wasn’t her type, but there was something about him she liked. Carla had the ability to sniff out wealth, and she could, by his expensive suit, his expensive watch and the way he spoke, tell that this newcomer had money. Maybe her investment in having a boob job would pay off again.

  “Do you have any children?” asked Carla, edging a little closer to Stefan, a move that did not go unnoticed by Cindy and Heidi, who both raised their eyebrows skywards.

  “A son, a son I no longer see,” replied Stefan, a brief hint of sadness in his voice. “And ladies, may I ask, are there three lucky men waiting for you all at home when you finish…,” he looked at the three plastic cups, “…whatever it is that you are doing?”

  “Walking our dogs,” snapped Heidi, once again noting the sarcasm in Stefan’s tone. “We are walking our dogs,” she repeated, as she sat, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

  “How delightful,” replied Stefan. “Ah, over there, I see them, such elegant animals,” he said pointing towards Fuchsl, Paddy and Walter, who were playing chase through the trees. “If only we humans were more like dogs. They hold no grudges, no bad thoughts. Such pleasant creatures,” he added as he returned to addressing the group as a whole.

  “Well, I have taken up far too much of your time already. Please, continue your dog walking. I am sure we will run into each other again. Ladies, I bid you a good afternoon.” Stefan stood from the picnic table and bowed his head. He then took Cindy’s hand and kissed it, before gently taking Carla’s hand and also kissing it. Both Cindy and Carla could hardly contain themselves. Such a gentleman. Stefan then took Heidi’s hand and raised it to his mouth. “If I may?” he asked.

  As he raised her hand to his mouth, Heidi noticed something on his hand — a faded tattoo. Heidi immediately knew what it meant. Suddenly a sense of dread engulfed her. The tattoo. The mark of the concentration camp. He was a survivor. One of those who had escaped, one of those who had not been cleansed. Heidi, for a brief second, froze, her eyes firmly affixed on Stefan’s tattoo. Her mouth was open, as if she was trying to speak, but her words could not leave her mouth. Heidi quickly averted her stare and regained her composure. She stared at the old man, her eyes meeting his, as if locked together by an invisible glue. His blue eyes seemed to pierce her skull. And was that a smirk across his face? He let loose her hand, after gently kissing it, and continued gazing into her eyes, and Heidi had the unnerving feeling he was gazing into her mind, into her soul.

  “I am sure we will all get to know each other very well,” said Stefan, who, though addressing all the ladies, seemed to be directing his comments towards Heidi, “very well indeed. I am sure in no time we will all become firm friends.”

  He once again flashed a smile at both Carla and Cindy, bowed his head again and made his way towards the park gate. As Stefan departed, Carla took a sip of her drink before speaking.

  “What a lovely man,” she said, “and I expect he is worth a fortune. Did you see his watch? That watch was one of those fancy Swiss things; they cost thousands.”

  “Oh, he is charming. Just what Gordonston needs, some class and sophistication,” added Cindy.

  “I think he took a shine to Heidi, don’t you?” said Carla, nudging Cindy.

  “Oh, I do. He could barely take his eyes of her. I think someone has got a new admirer.”

  Heidi frowned, and took a large gulp of her drink. She was shaking, and she hoped that her friends had not noticed. It appeared that they hadn’t.

  “I assure you,” said Heidi, “he is not my type, not my ty
pe at all. In fact, I found him quite disgusting.”

  Carla and Cindy laughed, assuming that Heidi was of course joking.

  “I am not feeling well,” said Heidi as she stood from the picnic table. “Fuchsl,” she shouted. “Fuchsl!” she shouted again, this time virtually screaming. Fuchsl turned his head towards Heidi, and as fast as he could, yielded to his mistress’s command.

  “Why, Heidi, whatever is the matter?” asked Carla, concerned for her friend and her sudden change of mood.

  Heidi did not reply immediately; she seemed to be in a trance and did not even notice Fuchsl heel to her side. After a few seconds the trance-like expression that had engulfed her face disappeared and she smiled. “Oh, sorry, ladies, I just feel a headache coming on. Just irritating me, that’s all. I am sure I can get rid of it, somehow or another.”

  “Well, it is getting late. Maybe it is time we all called it a day,” said Cindy, genuinely concerned that her friend was sick. “I will walk with you to make sure we find something for your pain. Is Betty there today?”

  Heidi rebuffed her friend’s offer. She would be fine. Carla and Cindy still had half their cocktails to drink, and she would be okay, it was just a headache.

  “Well, you take care, honey,” said Carla as Heidi rose from the picnic table. “If you need anything, just holler.”

  Heidi nodded, indicating that she would indeed ‘holler’ if she needed anything.

  As she made her way to her home, a few hundred yards from the park, with Fuchsl following behind, Heidi scowled. How on earth did he know?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “The results are in… you won!”

  Elliott Miller punched the air in delight and hugged the bearer of this euphoric announcement.

  “Thank you, Harold, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your help, everyone’s help, Cindy too. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  Harold Burns, one of Elliott’s closest friends and official campaign manager for his mayoral run, shrugged. “It was easy, Elliott. My God you deserved it. It is about time this city had a decent Mayor. This is your moment and it is all down to you. Now, get ready. The press want a statement.”

  Elliott nodded and composed himself. If only Thelma had been alive to see this. She would have been so proud, elated that her husband had achieved his goal.

  “One minute, let me call Spencer and Gordon in Los Angeles, I promised them I would let them know as soon as the results were in.”

  “Of course,” replied Harold. “I will let the rest of the team know. Cindy especially, she has been calling practically every five minutes.”

  As Elliott called his step-sons, and Harold called Cindy, news of Elliott’s win was already flowing through Savannah. Though the election had occurred the previous day, a recount had been ordered before any result would be announced, because the votes had been double those cast in the previous election, and the margin of Elliott’s victory so vast, that the election board had first thought that some sort of error must have occurred. It had been a landslide victory, unprecedented in turn out and size. They had to be cautious.

  Elliott had been nervous, unsure as to why no announcement had been made on the day of the election, but Harold had assured him, in fact promised him, that from all what he had heard, it was due to the fact that the vote counters had simply not been able to keep up, that it wasn’t even a close run election. He had been right.

  The next few hours were like a whirlwind for Elliott. It seemed he had shaken hands with half of Savannah and had his picture taken a thousand times. He smiled, grinned, raised his champagne class, had his back slapped and received numerous kisses on the cheek from countless supporters, most of them female. He had done it. Months of hard work had paid off. Now he could start doing what he had promised. He would be the best Mayor the city had ever known. He would get things done, improve the quality of life for everyone. What once had been a divided city would unite. There would be prosperity for all; he would put Savannah back on the map.

  He made his acceptance speech, which was greeted by cheers and whoops of delight, the loudest cheer coming from Cindy Mopper. Elliott reiterated his campaign promises, and stated that his priority would be to combat the rising crime rate in Savannah. He would make the streets safe, increase the police department’s budget, and recruit more officers. He also promised that he would bring more business to Savannah to ensure that the city would once again regain its reputation as a location for major conferences. He would give incentives to tourist-based businesses, to improve facilities, to fix the city’s parking problem. Things were going to get better.

  The crowd loved his acceptance speech. Even his opponents admitted that Elliott had the one thing they didn’t; charisma. He was also a great speech giver, and the sincerity in his voice when he spoke was mesmerizing. He would take up his post officially in thirty days, giving the current incumbent time to clear his desk and hand over power. Power; that is what Elliott had now, and as he stood at the podium, thanking all who had voted for him, promising those who hadn’t that he would also serve their needs, he couldn’t help but remember the passion and the devotion he had witnessed all those years ago, where he had seen how the power of speech, the power of the ability to convince others to your way of thinking through words, had so impressed him.

  All those years ago, watching Kurtz, or whoever he really was, putting his views across to the people of Buenos Aires, how he had the crowd hanging onto his every word.

  Elliott Miller scanned the crowd, his supporters, press and the media. He sought out Cindy and winked at her. Cindy thought she would faint. Could this be it? Would he now see her as a potential wife? Would Elliott, now that he had achieved his goal, propose to her, maybe even now, as he made his acceptance speech?

  Cindy pushed the thought from her mind. This was Elliott’s day, and in a way, Thelma’s day also. She couldn’t wait though, to get home and tell Billy. Tell Billy that Elliott had won, confide in her nephew that maybe now, now that the election was over, Elliott and she may become a couple. It was the next natural step, no distractions, no pressure, just happiness.

  As Elliott made his speech, and Cindy fantasized about the future, Heidi Launer shook with anger as she watched the local television channel’s live broadcast of Elliott’s speech. She stared at her television screen, her face distorted with hate. What was happening? Elliott Miller though, was not her biggest concern. She had other fish to fry, and Elliott would have to wait; she needed to protect herself before attacking him.

  At the same time as Heidi scowled at her TV screen, Carla Zipp stared at hers.

  Maybe now, she thought, Elliott would do the right thing, and propose to her friend. She felt

  nothing but joy, not just for Elliott, but for Cindy. How silly that Cindy had seen her as a threat, how preposterous a notion that she would ever come between Elliott and Cindy. Cindy was her friend, her best friend, and she, as much as Cindy, hoped that the Elliott and Cindy would eventually become a couple. This was as much Cindy’s day as it was Elliott’s, thought Carla.

  Detective Jeff Morgan was also watching Elliott’s speech, which was playing on the TV in the precinct. As his colleagues nodded their concurrence with Elliott’s comments about crime rates and extra money for the police department, he did not comment.

  Billy Malphrus, despite promising his aunt he would be watching Elliott’s speech, did not even have the television turned on. He was too busy daydreaming about yachts, fast cars and a wallet full of cash.

  Veronica Partridge was also not watching Elliott’s speech. She was at that precise moment taking her expensive brand new SUV for a spin, heading to the mall to buy new shoes, a purse and toys for her daughter, unaware that her neighbor had become Mayor.

  Kelly Hudd also had no idea that her former neighbor was now the new Mayor of Savannah, as she sat at her parent’s kitchen table, a tub of ice cream in front of her, staring into space.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ign
atius Jackson had many regrets, and as he lay on his bed, close to death; those regrets engulfed his final hours. He had taken a path in life that was not aligned to his beliefs. He had killed out of revenge. He had let bitterness, anger and hatred dictate his final years. He had been motivated not just by financial gain, but by a feeling that he had the power to dispense justice, to control the destiny of others. His medals, ribbons, so-called bravery and military service stood for nothing. That was not him. That was the Ignatius Jackson who had died seventeen years before, resurrected as a hateful and vengeful man, who had turned his back on goodness, God and his sense of right over wrong.

  His lack of faith in justice had led him on the path which allowed him to dispense his own justice, allowed him to decide who would live, who would die. He knew, though, that, unlike a judge, he passed judgment and sentence on those unable to defend themselves, without trial, with no recourse to attorneys, for those he condemned did not have the opportunity to defend themselves. There were no trials, no mitigation, and no appeals.

  What would May have thought? Would she have condoned his allegiance to the Organization? Would she have wanted him to exact revenge for her death? He doubted it. He also doubted she would be proud of the man she had once been honored to call her husband.

  Soon, he knew, he would have to face a different kind of judgment. Despite abandoning his religion, he had once been a man of strong religious beliefs. Of course, those beliefs conflicted with his chosen path, and Ignatius had resigned himself to the fact that there would be no place for him in God’s kingdom.

  As death crept ever closer, the regrets overwhelmed him. For the first time in his life he felt genuinely scared. He felt fear, the fear of where his soul would spend eternity. He prayed for forgiveness. He begged God to forgive his sins.

  He took a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table. At least he had sent the letter. Maybe he could do some good and save a life rather than end one. He just hoped the letter had reached its recipient in time, and that the recipient had acted on its contents. He would never know for sure, and he would never know for sure if the contents of his letter were even accurate. But he had sent it anyway.