Unleashed - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part 2

by Duncan Whitehead

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  The old man removed the Glock 19 from its box under his bed and filled the magazine with just one bullet. He then placed it on the reading table next to his easy chair, patting it gently. He then slipped outside into the late afternoon. It was dusk, the sun was setting and it was quite a pleasant evening. It was also time for someone to die, and it was time for revenge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  Billy Malphrus needed more cigarettes. His nerves were getting the better of him. The stroll to Piggly Wiggly would do him good, he thought. He took a draw on his last cigarette and let the smoke fill his lungs. He looked skyward and wondered if his aunt was home yet. He wondered if she had drunk his lemonade, and he wondered if she was already dead. Suddenly he froze. What the hell had he been thinking? Of course there would be an autopsy. Of course he would be the prime suspect. It wouldn’t take even the dumbest of detectives to put two and two together and realize that the person who had administered the poisonous lemonade to his aunt was him. It was like an epiphany. The sudden realization that he was making a huge mistake. He needed to get home, and quickly, he had to stop her drinking that damn lemonade.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and looked around; if he ran he could maybe get home before she did. Suddenly another shiver ran down his spine. He hadn’t noticed her, but she had been there all the time, staring at him, watching him. It was her. Gerry Gordonston, Kelly Hudd, or whatever her name was. She looked different, fatter he thought, uglier, she looked… scary. Sitting next to her in the passenger seat of her car was a dog.

  Kelly stared directly at Billy Malphrus, her heart pounding. She had paid good money for him to be killed, yet here he was, alive and kicking. She had lost everything, and yet here he stood, smoking his cigarette, standing outside the Piggly Wiggly — with not a care in the world.

  Billy knew the last thing he needed right now was a confrontation with the crazed looking woman parked in the car less than ten feet in front of him. Now he had two reasons to run. What if Kelly was on her way to tell Cindy everything? Before Kelly could even unfasten her seat belt, Billy dropped his cigarette and ran.

  * * * * *

  Betty Jenkins pulled into the Piggly Wiggly car park with smug satisfaction, another perfect lesson, and tomorrow she would be the proud holder of a Georgia State Driving License.

  “Watch out!” yelled her driving instructor. Betty instinctively applied the brakes. But it was too late, Billy Malphrus’ body catapulted through the air and over her driving instructor’s car. Even though Betty had applied her brakes, unfortunately for Billy, the car behind her didn’t, and drove over Billy’s body, which lay prone on the road, crushing his body with the front right wheel and his head with the rear right wheel.

  * * * * *

  Kelly Hudd stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding before her. Then, for the first time in four months, she smiled. That morning had been tough, especially after that detective had told her that Tom had most likely run off with another woman, and that all the clues indicated that he had been the one cheating on her. The detective wouldn’t say who this other woman was, but he had told her it was pointless even pursuing. She couldn’t believe it; she had spent most of the day crying. But now, now she laughed. Kelly could not believe what she had just witnessed. She had stared directly at him and he had stared back. It was the first time she had seen him since Paris, apart from a few minutes earlier outside her home, and the time she had briefly glimpsed him as he arrived at Cindy’s home, the night Tom had collected him from the airport, the night she had contacted those people. Those people who were meant to kill him. The ‘Organization’ who had taken her money and done nothing.

  The look on his face when he saw Kelly had been of shock, of fear and of utter disbelief. He had dropped the cigarette he had been smoking and had seemed frozen, like an escaped prisoner, caught in a searchlight, as if tranquilized by an invisible dart.

  Kelly had no plan. She wasn’t even sure if she would even confront him. He had been the last person she had expected to see when she had pulled up outside her old home, and despite following him, she wasn’t even sure what she was going to say to him. But then he ran, before Kelly could even think of what to do. Billy Malphrus had bolted into the road that circumnavigated the shopping area’s car park, and, as if in slow motion, Kelly had seen everything. He had been hit side on, but as he hit the car entering the car park, which actually wasn’t going fast at all, he had turned to face it. Kelly had sat open mouthed in her car as Billy Malphrus was tossed into the air and over the vehicle, and she had remained open mouthed as she saw the car behind enter the car park. This vehicle, however, was traveling faster than the one which had hit him.

  Despite her hatred for the fraud and liar that was Billy Malprhus, she had winced as the second car ran over his head. She had nearly vomited as Billy’s brains and head were crushed like a watermelon. She had put her hand to her mouth and had nearly thrown up when his brains spilled out onto the tarmac.

  She sat in her car and watched as the drivers and passengers of both cars exited their vehicles and stood around the body of Billy Malphrus. She thought she recognized the black lady, the one who had been driving the car that had hit him. She had stared as onlookers and shoppers rushed to where Billy Malphrus, or whatever was left of him, lay. There was no doubt he was dead. His head was as flat as a pancake, and she could see quite clearly that there was no way Billy Malphrus could have survived such horrific injuries. As witnesses and onlookers frantically dialed 911, and a few others took photographs of Billy’s corpse to no doubt tweet to their friends, Kelly smiled. For the first time in months she smiled. It was as if the depression and anxiety that had been haunting her since Tom had left her was suddenly lifted. Her smile then turned into a giggle, then her giggle into laughter, and as she sat, unnoticed by the gathering crowd, as sirens from an ambulance filled the air, her laughter grew. Her laughter grew to a crescendo, becoming hysterical, and she could not stop. And as she laughed, in the sanctuary that was her car, the crowds gathered around Billy Malphrus. People ran to see what the commotion was, not noticing the woman, sitting in her car, a confused Labrador next to her, tears of laughter streaming down her face and suddenly feeling rejuvenated, with a fresh sense of justice instilled in her, and the will to finally move on with her life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  The old man clenched the rope he held tightly in his hand, his tattoo again appearing larger than it was, an illusion caused by the folding and puffing of the skin around it. He could see her through the window of her kitchen. He had entered her yard unheard and unnoticed, and had retrieved the rope he now carried from one of his suitcases that still sat in his living room.

  * * * * *

  Heidi Launer could bear it no more. She had lived a good life, but she was not prepared to have her reputation sullied and her name tarnished. Nor was she prepared to be executed without putting up a fight. She had spent the day alone in her usually locked room, alone with her memories. Before leaving her memorial to evil, she had taken her uncle’s Luger, loaded the chamber and headed into her kitchen, where she now sat, Luger in hand, waiting….

  * * * * *

  Cindy Mopper collapsed onto her kitchen floor as the officer told her the news. Billy, poor Billy, killed less than fifteen minutes ago. Was there a neighbor they could call? A friend who could be with her. Ten minutes later Carla arrived and hugged her grieving friend.

  “Billy, my Billy, he’s gone,” sobbed Cindy.

  Carla comforted her old friend. “There, there, dear, you let it all out,” she said, extremely concerned for her friend, who wasn’t taking the shocking news of Billy’s death at all well.

  “Oh, Cindy, the officer told me what happened. I am so, so sorry. He was such a good and kind boy. He was truly one of the better ones. Let it all out, come on honey, and cry as much as you can.”

  Cindy clung to her friend, devastated and inconsolable. Poor Billy, his head crushed so that h
e was unrecognizable. His body now lay in the morgue. They had decided to remove his body as quickly as possible. It was obvious he was dead, and it was obvious what had occurred. It was, as the officer explained, a tragic accident. For some inexplicable reason he had run out in front of a car while leaving the grocery store. The poor woman who had hit him, and had in fact told the attending officers who he was, had been taking her final driving lesson.

  Carla delved into her pocket and produced two bottles of pills.

  “Xanax,” she said, “and Ambien — I think you need to take these. Try and calm down and sleep for an hour. I will take care of Paddy. Is there anything I can get you?”

  Cindy shook her head and forced a smile. Carla was indeed a good friend, and the thought of what she had once planned for her friend made her cry even harder. “No, just you being here is enough.”

  “Look, take these,” offered Carla, handing her the medication. “I take them to take the edge off, so to speak, and they will help you sleep.”

  Cindy took the pills from her friend and Carla filled a glass with water from tap, which Cindy duly drank, swallowing the medication.

  “Okay, you go and lie down. I will look after Paddy. I will take him for a walk, maybe come back with Walter, and they can hang out together. Leave everything to me.” Carla looked around the kitchen where they stood, noticing a pile of lemons that had been recently squeezed on the kitchen counter top. “I will also tidy this place up for you. So, you just try and sleep.”

  Cindy kissed her friend on the cheek and made her way to bed. Carla sighed. Poor Cindy. Billy was all she had, and he seemed such a nice boy. Life, she thought, was indeed fragile. You never knew when your time was up.

  Before she would do anything though, Carla needed a drink. She opened Cindy’s fridge and scanned its contents and spotted a jug of yellow liquid. Ah, she thought, that explains the squeezed lemons. She removed the jug from the fridge and sniffed it. It smelled fine, a hint of mint maybe? She grabbed a glass and filled it with Billy’s poisoned lemonade. Carla took a seat at the kitchen table and once again felt sorrow for not just Cindy, poor Cindy who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, but of course for the unfortunate and tragic Billy, who also wouldn’t harm a fly, who had spent most of his time caring for others and doing his stupendous charity work. The good always die young, thought Carla, as she raised the glass to her lips, but paused. First she would collect Walter, bring him to keep Paddy company, and she placed the glass back onto the table, the contents still un-drunk.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Veronica Partridge poured herself a glass of wine and relaxed on her sofa. Katie was sleeping, and this was her time to relax. She took a sip of chardonnay and smiled, stretched her legs and closed her eyes. Doug had been gone for months, and though she knew Katie missed him, it was of course for the best. At least Doug had left them financially secure. No mortgage and over $2,500,000 in the bank had meant she no longer needed to work. She had time to herself and felt like she had the chance to start all over again.

  She stood from the sofa and headed to the sliding doors that led to her back yard and stared at her flower bed. Soon those flowers would cover the slight raise in the earth. It was, she thought, a nice grave, and at least he would always be near them.

  She returned to the sofa, poured herself another glass of wine, and thought back to the events that had occurred a few months previously. She recalled the day vividly, the day Doug had admitted everything. His past, his actual job, the murders and the killings. He had lied to her from day one. Every word, every utterance, had been false, and from the moment he had eventually confessed all, she knew she no longer wanted him in her life. She had loved him, but how could she after his lies? Not after that; she could never trust him again.

  When he had shown her the bank statement from the account that contained the money he had accumulated, she had tried to understand his motives; that he had done it for them, for Katie, for her, but she could no longer believe a word he told her. It was for the best, what had happened; the fact that he was gone, no longer with them.

  * * * * *

  “I have something I have to tell you,” said Doug as his wife returned to their bedroom after putting down Katie, who was now sound asleep in her room.

  Veronica could tell from the tone of her husband’s voice it was something serious; he sounded worried and a little nervous. His demeanor also showed his anxiousness. What was even odder was that he was dressed, especially as it was ten thirty at night. She also didn’t fail to notice the small carry on suitcase that lay at the side of their bed.

  Veronica felt a sudden dread overwhelm her. Was Doug leaving her? Was he about to suddenly disappear from her life, just as quickly as he had entered it? Nearly three years ago.

  “Doug, what is going on?” she asked, indicating towards the suitcase.

  “Sit down, Veronica, there is something I have to tell you, something I think I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t have the courage. I never thought I would need to tell you, but something has happened, and I have to be honest; I have to tell you the truth about me, what I do, what I have done, and now the danger I have put myself in.”

  Veronica sat on the bed, as she had been instructed.

  “I have to leave. Tonight. I don’t have a choice. If there was any way I could stay, I would,” said Doug, as he took his wife’s hand.

  Veronica recoiled her hand immediately. “You are leaving me? Leaving us? Why? How could you? Have you met someone else? What the hell is going on, Doug?”

  “I really don’t know where to start,” replied Doug.

  “From the beginning, how about from the beginning, Doug?” said Veronica, her arms now folded. “It usually is the best place to start.”

  So Doug Partridge did. He started from the beginning. He told his wife the truth. She did not interrupt as he began to explain exactly who he was and what he did.

  For twenty minutes, uninterrupted and without one question from Veronica, Doug Partridge began his confession. He told her that he was not an accountant; that he never had been, that his money and investments had been earned not from toiling away in an office, not by investing in stocks and shares and not by arranging corporate mergers and acquisitions. No. He was an assassin; he killed people for money. He was a murderer, a gun for hire who had made the mistake of falling in love. Falling in love with her. He had tried to retire, tried so desperately to hide his past, to start again, to rebuild his life with Veronica and now Katie. All he had ever craved was a normal life. He was sickened by the things he had done, ashamed of them, but that was then, and this was now, and he realized that he could no longer live the lie he had been leading since the day he met Veronica and retired from the ‘Organization’. For twenty minutes he pleaded his case, defending his actions where he could, and confronting his biggest fear, his wife finding out the truth.

  Veronica sat open mouthed as Doug spoke. More than once she shook her head and raised her hand to her mouth. She was in shock. Her husband, the father of her child, the man she thought she knew better than any other person on the planet was a fraud and a liar, but much worse than that, he was a killer, he was a cold-blooded murderer who had killed many times.

  “Look, I know this is a shock, but I needed to tell you,” said Doug.

  “A shock? A goddam shock?” screamed Veronica. “You sit there, telling me that you are a killer, a murderer, Jesus Christ; an assassin, and you say ‘I know this is a shock’? How dare you, how dare you come into my life, lie to me, have a child with me and not have the courage to tell me the truth? A shock? Are you serious? This isn’t you telling me you cheated, this isn’t you telling me you dinged the car, this isn’t you telling me that we are broke, or you have cancer. That would be a shock. This, whatever this is, is more than just a damn ‘shock’!”

  Doug shook his head, what had he expected? That Veronica would nod her head, say everything was fine, that ‘yeah, well, it’s a bit of shock, but let’s just fo
rget it’.

  “Is your name even Doug?” asked Veronica, in a tone harsh and accusatory.

  Doug didn’t reply. He was ashamed. Ashamed of the lies he had told the only woman he had ever truly loved. Ashamed that sleeping in the room next to him was a precious child, innocent and trusting, a child that he had brought into the world, all based on the lies he had told.

  “So, ‘Doug,’” said Veronica aggressively, “just what the hell were you doing in Savannah when we met? I take it that was a lie, you attending that banking conference, were you here on business or on ‘business’?” Veronica was shaking, not just with anger but fear. It dawned on her that she did not know the man sitting sullen faced and remorseful in front of her. She suddenly realized that she didn’t know him at all.

  “I came to Savannah to kill a man,” replied Doug.

  “Who?” asked Veronica, fighting back tears.

  “It really isn’t important who he was,” answered Doug as he tried to comfort his wife, who rebuked his consoling arms immediately.

  “Don’t you touch me!” she screamed.

  Doug put his arms by his side, conscious that Katie was sleeping in the next room. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up, not right now.

  “Not important? Not important?” repeated Veronica. “He would have been important to somebody,” she screamed, “everyone is important; he could have been a father, a brother, he was somebody’s son, maybe somebody’s husband. And you say he isn’t important. I despise you. I hate you. You are a vile human being, and I cannot believe I let you into my life. You are evil ‘Doug’. And you are right to be ashamed. You disgust me.”

  Doug took a deep breath. He had not known what to expect after his confession, he had not known how Veronica would react. This though, was worse than anything he could have imagined.