Though none had ever done anything remotely similar in the past, Butch had been pleased to see how all had participated with wild abandon, obeying his every command with neither hesitation nor restraint. They had left as quietly as they had arrived, energized by the death and devastation they had collectively created.
“Hey, Butch, when are we gonna do something like this again?” Dibs had asked as they reached the clearing where their vehicles were parked.
“Vacation’s over, boys,” Butch had replied with a grin. “Next one ain’t until next summer but I promise we’ll make it a doozy.”
It had certainly started off nicely over the weekend in Brighton, Butch mused with a smile. He would relax for a day or two with the guys, maybe head into town to check out the bars and women then go cruising and scouting for someplace nice for a party next weekend. Yep, this would be their best vacation to date.
Chapter 2
Friday, June 21, 2013
“Where to?” asked Rat as they pulled away from the dock at Knowlton Marina in the sixteen foot utility boat they had just rented.
“That way,” Butch replied pointing northeast toward the Lake Brome shore. “It’s around there somewhere. I’ll know the place when I see it.”
As planned, Butch had gone off cruising through the countryside for a few hours on the Wednesday, scouting for a potential target for some weekend fun. As always, selection criteria consisted of privacy, seclusion and obvious wealth and Butch had been close to giddy as he had spotted almost endless possibilities. One after another, huge, heavily wooded lots sheltered expensive homes from view and houses were so far from one another that someone screaming bloody murder, even outside, would likely not be heard.
With such a wide choice of targets, he had returned to the campsite undecided and actually somewhat confused as to which place was which. For this reason, he had opted to go for another cruise on the Thursday and had ventured a little further, ending up on Lakeside Road along the eastern shore of Lake Brome. If anything, the properties in this area were bigger and more luxurious than the best he had seen the day before. Slowing to a more leisurely speed to take in the feast before him, he had come to a full stop on the side of the road when the entrance to one particular property caught his eye and piqued his curiosity.
Directly across from him, a two lane wide driveway led onto a lot of majestic proportions, made evident by the field stone walls which paralleled the road for hundreds of feet before curving in to border the driveway on either side. Beyond the walls, a variety of mature conifers enclosed the property, assuring complete privacy from prying eyes.
Kicking his bike into gear, Butch had u-turned across the road, pulling up to the edge of the driveway where he had cut the engine and set the stand. Looking about casually to ensure no one else was around, he had then sauntered along the driveway, intent on getting a better view of what lay beyond the trees. Some thirty feet in, the barrier of junipers and pine ended where the driveway veered to the right toward a sprawling ranch-style home. Beyond, perpendicular to the house, a separate building housed a five car garage on the lower level with a complete second storey above. Part of an in-ground pool could be seen at the rear of the house and further on, the lake where a catamaran, a powerboat and two Sea-Doos were docked. To his left was a tennis court and, any golfer’s dream, a two hole chip and putt, complete with sand traps and pond as well as a driving net.
Having seen what he wanted and not wishing to be seen himself, he had returned to his motorcycle to head back to the campsite. As he had fired up the engine, he had gazed at the property’s entrance one last time and noticed a decorative cast iron post set in the stone wall on either side of the driveway. A plaque hung from each, one on which was the house number while the other read “The Barrys”.
As he had left, he had decided he would go scope out the place from the lake side with Rat the following day. However, he had already been pretty sure they would be partying at the Barry home come the weekend.
“There,” Butch announced as they slowly approached a wide cove on the eastern shore. “That’s the place.”
“Holy crap,” Rat replied. “It’s huge. Do you know who lives there?”
Butch shrugged. “Somebody called Barry who’s got major cash from what I can see. Go in a bit closer. I want to get a better look at this place.”
Rat steered the boat slightly toward the cove as Butch scanned the Barry property, familiarizing himself with the layout of the place as seen from the lake.
“Someone’s coming out of the house,” said Rat.
Butch turned his gaze to the rear of the home where an attractive woman in shorts and a tank top was walking across the expansive paving stone patio toward the pool. As he looked on, a man appeared in the open sliding door and called out something undecipherable to the woman, causing her to turn and laugh as she retraced her steps toward him. When she reached him, he gave her a hug then took her hand as they strolled toward the lake where they settled on two of the half dozen lounge chairs scattered on their private beach.
“Well, aren’t the Barrys a pretty couple?” Butch murmured.
“She’s going to be a lot more fun to party with than that old broad last weekend,” Rat agreed. “She’s hot.”
“Yep, she’s a fine looking lady,” Butch replied, gazing at the couple as the boat slowly slid by. When both the man and woman waved, he waved back and added, “Friendly too. We’re in for a good time this weekend. A real good time. Let’s head back to camp. I’ve got a good picture of the layout in my head and I want to line up how we’ll cover this tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
Saturday, June 22, 2013 - 1:55 p.m.
“Will you guys be ready for a break soon?” asked Dave as he strolled up to the tennis court with his golf bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ve now honed my golfing skills to perfection and will kick your butt tomorrow, Mr. Barry.”
“If his golf is half as good as his tennis,” Jon called from the far end of the court, “You might as well cancel your round right now, Captain. Our illustrious host just beat me in five straight matches.”
“You won some sets,” Chris countered. “It was pretty close throughout.”
“I won one set in the first match,” Jonathan replied. “You beat the crap out of me the rest of the time.”
Chris grinned as he spoke. “So, what? Now you don’t want to play anymore?”
“You’re damned right I don’t want to play anymore,” Jonathan confirmed. “What I want is a beer.”
“Well, you’re in luck because we’ve got a fridge full,” said Chris. “Let’s go.”
As planned, Jonathan and his wife, Josée, had flown in on their new seaplane the previous afternoon, arriving minutes before Leslie had driven up with her partner, Dominique. Dave and Cathy had not been far behind the two women and the long weekend party at the Barrys had gotten underway.
Swimming and drinks by the pool had preceded a late dinner on the terrace which had been followed by a later evening of after-dinner drinks and non-stop conversation, banter and laughter. All had slept in come the morning then gathered for a sumptuous brunch with Chris, Dave and Jon manning the kitchen.
After the meal, the five women had boarded the plane and flown to nearby Magog for a few hours of strolling and shopping. Jonathan and Chris had headed for the tennis court once Dave, not a tennis aficionado, had assured them he wished to take advantage of Chris’ golf installation to practice his drives, chips and putts. Dinner was to be a variety of Italian fare which the ladies had promised to prepare upon their return.
“Want to sit outside or in?” asked Chris as they reached the terrace.
“I’d say out,” Jonathan replied, eyeing the pool. “I’m going to change so I can jump into that thing.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dave agreed.
“Sure thing,” said Chris. “Go on while I get us some beers and something to munch on.”
They headed into the house through the sliding do
ors to the kitchen where Chris got busy filling a few bowls with chips, pretzels and mixed nuts while Jon and Dave went off to change. As Chris was getting the beers from the refrigerator, the front doorbell rang. Setting the beers down on the counter, he made his way to the entrance foyer to see who was calling.
“You want me to get that?” Jon asked as he came down the hallway clad in swimming trunks and a t-shirt.
“I got it,” Chris replied as he reached the door a few steps ahead of Jonathan.
He opened the door to reveal a tall, good-looking man is his twenties. Of wiry build, the visitor wore a Harley Davidson tank top, blue jeans and black biker boots. Sunglasses perched atop his light brown hair which was pulled back in a ponytail.
“Mr. Barry?” the man inquired with a smile, glancing briefly at Jonathan in the background.
“Yes,” Chris replied. “How can I help you?”
Butch pulled out his S&W .357 Magnum from behind his back and aimed it directly at Chris’ face before replying. “You can start by taking a couple of steps back and hope your friend doesn’t do anything stupid or you’ll be a dead man. Move.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chris asked as he stepped backward away from the door.
“I’m always sure of what I do,” Butch replied, moving forward as two other men, both armed with pistols, appeared from either side of the doorway and entered, the second one kicking the door shut behind him.
“What’s going on?” came Dave’s voice from down the hall where he had been busy in the bathroom.
“Tell him to come here,” Butch ordered, his tone low.
“We’re in the front foyer, Dave,” Chris called out. “We have company.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s that?” asked Dave as he entered the spacious foyer. “Whoa, what the hell is going on here?”
“Get against the wall with your friend so my buddies can keep an eye on you,” Butch ordered then returned his gaze to Chris. “Anyone else here?”
“No,” Chris replied, “Just the three of us.”
“Have a look around, Rat, just in case our new friend is bullshitting me,” Butch ordered one of the others before again addressing Chris. “Where’s that cute little wife of yours? I’m really looking forward to meeting the lady up close to see if she’s as hot as she looked from far.”
“You’ve been watching us?” Chris demanded, visibly stiffening and clenching his fists.
“Don’t get excited, buddy,” Butch warned. “I just like to get a feel for who I’m dealing with.”
“That was you on the boat yesterday,” said Chris, recognizing the intruder.
“Yep, and you were mighty nice to wave at us like you did,” said Butch, his revolver still steadily trained on Chris’ face. “Now, answer my question. Where’s the wife?”
Thinking fast, Chris glanced at his watch then replied, “She should be in Los Angeles by now.”
“Los Angeles?” Butch repeated, a little surprised. “She was here just yesterday.”
“She flew out this morning,” said Chris with a head gesture toward Dave and Jonathan, “Gone for a few weeks with their wives. Girls’ vacation while the boys stay home to play some golf and drink some beer.”
Butch shrugged. “A boys’ party isn’t what I had in mind but you’ve got a nice place and, since we’re here, me and my crew will hang around for a while. Hell, we may just stick it out until your ladies come back cuz I sure would like to meet them.”
At that moment, the one named Rat returned and confirmed the house was indeed free of other occupants.
“Well, that’s good. I’d hate to think of what would happen if our friend here lied to me,” said Butch before turning back to Chris. “Are you expecting anyone else?”
Chris shook his head. “No, it’s just the three of us.”
Butch addressed Rat. “Have a couple of guys stay out front to keep an eye on things, just in case any unexpected visitors do show up. Tell the rest of the crew to join us in the kitchen cuz I think Mister Barry here was just about to offer us a beer. Lead the way, gents.”
Chapter 4
Saturday - 2:21 p.m.
Neither being huge fans of shopping, Sandy and Josée had let the other three go on with their browsing after an hour, agreeing to meet at three-thirty at the Merry Club Marina where they had docked the plane.
“I really love these smaller towns,” said Josée as they strolled in the park along Magog Bay. “They’re so much more relaxing than the hustle and bustle of the city.”
“Chris and I have never regretted moving to Knowlton,” Sandy replied. “Montreal’s not that far away when we need it and there’s nothing like trotting across your yard to dive into the lake or hitting the slopes minutes after you leave home.”
“We’re actually thinking of getting a place down here,” Josée admitted. “Our visits with you guys have spoiled us and Jon dreams of coasting up to our dock now that we have this plane.”
“Josée, that would be wonderful,” Sandy exclaimed. “How serious are you about this?”
Josée smiled as she replied, “Serious enough that Jonathan is planning to pick your husband’s brain over the weekend about the local real estate market, recommended locations, reliable developers and agents in the area, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, Chris will have tons of information to share with you two,” said Sandy. “And as far as an agent goes, Linda Shapiro was marvelous. She found us the lot we built on and the perfect location for my gallery, neither of which were even listed for sale at the time. She really has her ear to the ground for real estate in the Townships and she’s great to deal with.”
Josée nodded in approval. “Sounds like we may have already found an agent.”
“You’ll love her,” Sandy replied then paused. “You know what? Now that I think about it, Linda has an office right here in Magog. We have over an hour before we meet up with the girls. Do you want to go check it out?”
“Will it be open?” asked Josée with interest. “It’s Saturday.”
“No doubt about it,” said Sandy. “Linda’s agency also manages property rentals. I can call Chris for the address if you want to have a first look at what the market has to offer.”
“That sounds like fun,” Josée agreed. “Let’s do it.”
Sandy pulled out her phone and called their home number but frowned after a moment as she cut the connection.
“That’s strange,” she said. “There’s no answer.”
“They must be outside,” Josée replied. “They were talking about tennis when we left and you know how they love to get out on the lake.”
“But voicemail should have picked up,” Sandy explained. “It just kept on ringing. There must be a problem with the landline. I’ll try Chris’ mobile.”
* * * *
“Hey, guys,” Butch announced as they entered the kitchen. “This is Mister Barry, our host, and two of his friends. I’m sorry to tell ya, their ladies are off on vacation but I figured, since we’re here, we’ll hang out for a bit, make the best of it and try to have some fun.”
Chris gazed at the assortment of hoodlums occupying his kitchen and counted ten in addition to their leader, bringing their total to thirteen if two were in fact keeping an eye on things outside. He was certain both Jonathan and Dave had just performed the same headcount.
“Now, since we’ll be spending some time together,” said Butch, addressing his three captives, “I think we should introduce each other more proper-like and then I’ll explain how things work. I’m Butch and this is my crew. I’m not gonna call you Mister forever so, what’s your names?”
“Chris.”
“Dave.”
“Jonathan.”
“Okay, Chris, Dave and Jonathan,” Butch continued, “Now we know each other. The way things work is simple. You do what we tell you to do, you don’t try anything stupid and we’ll go easy on you. Let’s start with phones. Give me yours.”
Chris removed the phone case clipped
to his belt and set it on the kitchen island while Dave and Jonathan, both in swimming trunks, remained motionless.
“What about you two?” Butch demanded.
“I don’t have it on me,” Jon replied.
Butch smiled at him and nodded to one of his crew, a big, bulky ox of a man standing behind Jonathan. The man smiled back then punched Jonathan in the kidney. Jonathan grunted in pain as his knees somewhat buckled but, to their captors’ surprise, he remained standing.
“Are you losing your touch, Ape?” Butch asked with a smirk before gazing back at Jonathan. “I’m impressed, Jon. Most guys pass out when Ape hits them. You’re pretty solid for an old guy. Now, let’s try that again. Where is your phone?”
“On the nightstand in the second bedroom to the right,” Jonathan rasped.
“Smart man,” said Butch then looked at Dave, “And yours?”
Dave pointed. “On the counter behind you.”
“You see how it’s better to cooperate with us?” said Butch, retrieving Dave’s phone and placing it next to Chris’, “And now that I have your phones, I won’t have to worry about any of you sneaking off a call for help. If you did, that would screw up my weekend and then you’d get hurt. I’ll let you in on something else. Don’t bother thinking about the landline cuz we cut that when we got here.”
At that moment, Chris’ phone began vibrating on the granite top where it lay.
Butch picked it up, glanced at the screen and asked, “Who’s Sandy?”
“My wife,” Chris replied.
“Quiet, everyone,” Butch ordered as he stared at Chris. “You answer on speakerphone and all is fine. Fuck up and you’re dead. Got it?”
Chris nodded then took the phone and opened the line. “Hi, Sandra. You girls made it to Los Angeles without any problems?”
9 More Killer Thrillers Page 124
