Evil in Paradise

by R. B. Conroy

  The slender lady spun around holding her hand above her eyes to shield them from the bright lights on Ed’s cart. Her hair was disheveled; her mouth was circled in red from the aggressive kissing.

  “Can I help you?” she said with incredulity. Ed stopped in his tracks and scanned the lady’s face. She was attractive all right and she was in a green tennis skirt and white blouse, but it was NOT Cathy. Ed was taken aback and hugely embarrassed by his actions-a flood of red washed over his face.

  “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I…uh, thought you were somebody else. I…uh, I…uh, will be going now.” He smiled meekly and hurried back to his cart, pushed the lights off and backed quickly away from the scene. The two love birds watched Eric pull away and then went back at it.

  Reeling from the ill-fated encounter in the parking lot and feeling humiliated, Ed headed for the main entrance to the parking lot and resumed his trip home. The bright lights of Lake Sumter Landing faded into the background as his cart disappeared into the dark spring night.

  9

  “Nice wheels!”

  “Thanks, I like this model. With all of the extras it was over a hundred thousand.” Cathy felt tacky mentioning the price of her car. Eric wasn’t a poor boy, but he certainly didn’t have the kind of money that she had. Over a hundred thousand was a significant amount to a man like him. She hoped the shallow materialism might excite Eric. Cathy glanced in the rearview mirror and fluffed her blond curls-a gesture to show Eric how important it was that she look good for him. Her efforts did not go unnoticed.

  “No need to primp, my pretty. You look gorgeous.” Eric took a sip of his Bud Light and placed it back in the cup holder on the console. It was his seventh Bud since arriving at Cody’s an hour and a half earlier. Cathy had consumed four Vodka tonics in the same period and was feeling woozy. The nice comments from Eric sent a thrill up her spine-her face flushed red. She was drunk, horny and ready for action.

  “We’re here,” she announced.

  The security gate to the Village of Duval opened in front of them. “It’s the first right and then the fourth house on the left.”

  Cathy wanted to explain the exact location of the Smith’s to Eric so he could find it on his own if need be. During the drive, her skirt had scooted up past mid-thigh, her shapely legs were spread wide apart. Becoming more and more excited about what she hoped lay ahead, she fumbled nervously for the garage door opener on the visor. In her eagerness to find it and open the door, the opener slipped from her hand and fell on her lap.

  “Oh my, I’m such a klutz,” she moaned.

  “Allow me.” Eric reached over and plucked the elusive opener from her lap letting his hand rest against her upper thighs for a second before lifting it and handing it to her. “Here you are, my dear.”

  Hands shaking, Cathy took the opener from him and pressed the button. The door rattled up, Cathy drove carefully in the garage and pushed the down button. Then, with her chest heaving and back erect, she fell back against the leather seat waiting for what she knew was coming. Without comment, Eric leaned closer and began carefully unbuttoning her blouse. When the last button was open, Cathy frantically reached around her back, unhooked her bra, slipped it off and tossed it in the backseat. Eric slid his hand up her thigh, moving closer and closer to the promise land. Bare-chested and moaning, Cathy was barely able to speak as the garage door opener light went off, “T…there’s a king bed in the master bedroom, w…why don’t we go inside.”

  A drunken, red-faced Eric, groaned, “Let’s hurry. It just got darker than night in here.”

  Their car doors banged shut as the two excited lovers fumbled toward the back door to enter the house. Once inside, Cathy clicked on the kitchen light. Articles of clothing began flying everywhere. A pair of men’s underwear landed on the kitchen counter, a ladies’ tennis shoe bounced against the leg of the large bed in the master bedroom, and a pair of silk bikini panties sailed through the air glancing off the master bathroom door and then hooking on the handle. The two lovers pounced on the bed, wound themselves into a knot like two sumo wrestlers and made passionate love over and over again, until their well-conditioned, but aging bodies could go no more.

  After several long embraces and wet kisses, Cathy rolled to her back and glanced at her watch and moaned, “This has been wonderful, my dear, but it’s after eleven o’clock.”

  She gave Eric a peck on the cheek, rolled out of bed and hurried around the large master suite picking up her clothes. With her arms full, she ran toward the master bath snatching her panties off of the door handle on the way. Eric followed suit, gathering up his stuff and heading for the guest bathroom just off the family room.

  A few minutes later, like a couple of teenagers, the two fully dressed lovebirds giggled their way to the garage. Cathy pushed the button next to the garage door. The opener’s light blinked on and the door rattled up. They hurried to the car and hopped in before the neighbors saw them and quickly backed out of the garage to begin the drive back to Lake Sumter Landing to pick up Eric’s Jeep.

  “Think he’ll be suspicious? It will be going on twelve before you get home.” Eric’s open-eyed gaze hung on Cathy.

  “I don’t know, I hope he’s asleep.”

  “Are you late often?” Eric pressed her, not wanting any trouble with a man of her husband’s stature.

  “No, I’m usually home by ten-thirty or eleven. I’m surprised he hasn’t called. He should be worried about me, don’t you think?” She grinned mischievously at Eric.

  Eric shook his head, “You’re too much.”

  “Ed’s the trusting type; he believes everything I tell him.”

  “Which will be?” He held his eyes on his confident bedmate.

  “He doesn’t know much about my tennis playing activities. I’ll just tell him that it was a very long match and we were all tired and hungry, so we stopped on the way home for a quick bite to eat. He won’t press me on the details; he never does.” She reached over and patted Eric’s bare leg. “Don’t worry, I’m not so sure he really gives a hoot anyway.”

  Eric took his eyes off Cathy and looked through the windshield at the parking lot ahead. There was a group at the outside bar laughing and making small talk.

  Cathy’s car came to a stop next to the Jeep, “Here we are, darling. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  “Likewise, my lovely.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  She suddenly grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him hard toward her, giving him a long passionate kiss on the lips and then gently pushing him away.

  “You turn me on, Mr. Lowe,” she said as a surprised Eric fell back in his seat. “Don’t forget our match tomorrow at five. Now, I must be going.”

  Still somewhat stunned by the aggressive kiss, Eric pushed the door open and climbed out of the convertible.

  “Get plenty of rest; we have a tough one tomorrow!” She touched her fingers to her lips and threw him a kiss.

  He did the same and then watched as her sleek auto sped across the vacant lot. That woman is a control freak, he thought, walking quickly to his Jeep and hopping aboard for his short drive home.

  Eric exited the mostly empty parking area and headed for Lakeshore Drive. The cool breeze felt good on his sweaty face. Soon he was on the roundabout to Buena Vista Boulevard and starting home. Alone with his thoughts, he was still trying to make sense out of what had happened tonight. He had certainly been involved with married women before, but not of the stature of Cathy Roberts. Those affairs usually involved an underpaid waitress or a clerk in a convenience store, women looking for a step up in life. He had never bedded down with a woman like Mrs. Roberts. It was different and exhilarating. He hoped this wasn’t the last time they stopped for a drink after their match.

  Eric was jarred out of his thoughts by the loud cracking sound of motorcycle mufflers. Before he could get his bearings, a dark figure on a Harley came racing up along side of him on the driver’s side. Eric couldn’t make ou
t the man’s face on the dimly lighted street, but he looked very menacing with his large frame and black hair blowing in the breeze. The rider drew closer, glared at him through the driver’s side window and then backed off. A few seconds later he pulled alongside of him again. Eric was certain that this was no accidental serenade. This guy was purposely trying to intimidate him. Was this the guy talking to Cathy earlier at Cody’s? If so, what was he doing tailing him so late at night? What the hell was going on? Eric wasn’t sure, but he was ready to fight back. Nobody messed with Eric Lowe, the toughest kid ever to come out of his neighborhood in Ft. Worth, Texas. He prided himself on his macho toughness. He reached over and quickly punched open his glove box and took out a thirty-eight he carried for just such events. He held the gun in front of him, so the approaching street light would reflect off the barrel making it visible to the menacing biker cruising to his left.

  When he saw the gun, the ominous looking biker immediately stuck his middle finger in the air and then backed off, pipes popping. He stayed some fifty feet behind Eric until they reached the next roundabout, where he did a fast 360 and headed back the other way.

  Eric drove slowly and listened until the loud mufflers had faded into the quiet night. When he was certain that the menacing biker was no longer a threat to him, he sped up and entered the next roundabout and exited to his home in the Village of Mallory. A short time later, he arrived at his two bedroom villa, reached for the visor and pushed the button on his garage door opener and disappeared into the garage.

  10

  When Ed arrived home, Cathy was not there. The house was dark; the only light in the house was the one above the dining room table, the usual night light. There was no light in the bedroom or the Florida room where the large screen TV was. She wasn’t home-Ed fought his growing suspicions. She probably just had a few drinks with the girls, he thought.

  Very tired and ready to relax and unwind, he opened the refrigerator door and found the other half of a foot long sub sandwich lying on the middle shelf. He snatched up the sandwich, grabbed a cold beer from the shelf above and headed for his favorite recliner in their large Florida room that bordered the kitchen.

  After finishing his snack, Ed watched a rerun of CSI and then clicked off the TV and headed for their bedroom upstairs. Still very worried about his wife’s whereabouts, he planned to read in bed until she arrived home. He disrobed down to his briefs and T-shirt and slipped on his pajama bottoms. He picked his latest book off the nightstand next to his bed and fell into bed. He opened the book, found his place and started to read. A few minutes later, he was fast asleep.

  * * * * * *

  Cathy waved her pass key in front of the electric eye at the entrance to Bridgeport. She accelerated through the rising gate and sped toward home. Nearing their house, she could see that most of the lights, except for the nightlight above the dining-room table and a dim light in the master bedroom, were off. Cathy grinned, certain that her husband would be asleep. Normally, he read for a while and then fell asleep. She often commented to anyone who would listen that, ‘I could shoot a cannon off when that man goes to sleep and not wake him up.’

  She pulled into the garage and turned the engine off. As the garaged door closed behind her, she fell back against the seat and thought of Eric and the exciting experience she had just had. She felt no guilt; she never did feel guilty after her extramarital trysts with other men. She felt her life was dull and unfulfilling with her boring banker husband and that she had every right to explore a more exciting life. An only child, spoiled by doting parents, she was taught early that the world revolved around her and her needs and wants. She accepted the fact that Ed was a good man and had been a very good father to their children. Unfortunately, he had not given her the kind of life she deserved-a titillating life, filled with adventure and new experiences. She had convinced herself that he was to blame and that she had been almost forced to seek her own kind of happiness without the shackles and constraints of their loveless marriage.

  Although she had managed to exonerate herself from any sense of guilt concerning her extracurricular activities with Eric Lowe, there was something much more sinister working on the tortured psyche of Cathy Roberts. She saw herself as a hopeless victim of a distracted, insensitive man. Images began to flash through her mind-images that were almost too dastardly for even her to comprehend. She suddenly felt anxious and upset; her heart was pounding out of her chest. Then, as suddenly as these emotions had started, they vanished. She felt very calm inside. The side of her mouth turned up in a slight smile, and then with a raspy, groan, she said, “I must do it. It’s my only chance for happiness.”

  She now realized that in Eric Lowe she had everything she had ever wanted in a man. He was sensitive and caring, yet youthful and exciting, willing to try and do new things in the bedroom. Her other affairs had just been one night stands out of boredom with local men she knew back in Syracuse, Indiana. She had never thought of them as the ultimate companion for her, certainly not someone for whom she would consider leaving Ed, but in Eric she felt she had found the perfect man.

  A satisfied smile spread across her face when she thought back to her initial impressions of him. At first, he seemed very much like many of the nice gentlemen she had met in The Villages. He was polite, sincere and not the least bit interested in fooling around. He had not forced himself on her. Their relationship had grown gradually. In her sense of reality, this made the relationship much more meaningful. He wasn’t just some voyeur looking for a quick lay. He was a solid, decent man who had been, little by little, drawn into a relationship with an attractive, sincere woman. His three divorces concerned her, but she rationalized that like so many other men she had known, he probably just wasn’t a good judge of women. That was, until he met her.

  Cathy had decided that her future lay with Eric Lowe. Her dilemma was how to get her husband Ed out of the picture. A divorce would be humiliating for a woman in her social circles. She and Ed had been married over forty years and held great status in their local community in Indiana as well as in The Villages. Divorce at this stage in her life was just something people like her didn’t do-it was out of the question. Besides, the great bulk of their wealth and income was the direct result of Ed’s tremendous earning power while in the banking business. She would lose everything if she divorced him, including the cushy lifestyle that she now enjoyed. It was clear to her that she had to devise a plan to get Ed out of her life without divorcing him and still end up with all or most of his money. She had determined that Ed would have to leave this world. She knew that it would take all of the cunning she could muster to pull this one off without being found out. She also realized it would take a little time. To hurry would make for mistakes, and she couldn’t afford any mistakes with something this profound. She had to be extremely careful and measured-there was no room for error.

  Cathy quietly got out of the car and pushed the door open from the garage to the kitchen easing it shut. She shook her head when she heard the loud snoring coming from the bedroom. She set her purse on the kitchen counter and glanced at the phone. The message light was blinking showing that she had three messages. She tapped the button and leaned on the counter to listen. The first two were about upcoming tennis matches, reminders of the time and place. But the third message was a shocker! Eyes wide, she listened in rapt attention to the deep, raspy voice.

  “Mrs. Roberts, or may I call you Cathy? This is Dirk, the biker guy. Remember me?” Cathy was totally shocked that his man would call her at home. She had talked to him for just a few minutes at the restaurant earlier, that’s all. And, how did he get her phone number? She didn’t remember telling him her name, but she must have. He got her number somehow. The message continued, “I know you may think this sounds funny, but I thought that maybe you and I could talk again sometime. Maybe even take a ride on my bike or something. Sound good to you? If so, my name is Dirk, and you can call my cell at 352-644-9923. I’ll be waiting for your call, sexy
lady!”

  Cathy froze; her eyes nervously scanned the kitchen. What was this man doing calling her home? A Harley guy? She couldn’t have a Harley guy calling her house. She was relieved that apparently Ed had not checked the phone messages earlier, but she knew she had to do something and do it fast. One steamy affair at a time was enough. She didn’t need to be bothered by this guy. She listened again for Ed’s snoring-it was still loud and clear. She grabbed the phone off the stand and quickly dialed Dirk’s number. She didn’t care what time it was. She had to nip this thing in the bud.

  “Yo, Dirk here.”

  “Mr. Harrison, this is Cathy Roberts and I’m sorry for calling you so late but I feel we need to talk.”

  “No problem, Mrs. Roberts, just got home myself. Fire away.”

  Cathy could hear rap music in the background. “I don’t know how you got my number, but you must never call me again. I am a married woman and I can’t have men that I barely know calling my home. Do you understand?”

  Dirk laughed nervously, “Hell, the way you was hangin’ on that fellow at Cody’s, I just figured you were divorced or getting a divorce or something. You didn’t act very much like a married woman to me.” He grunted out a laugh. “I got your number from the book. You told me your husband’s name, remember?”

  “No, I don’t remember and that gentleman at Cody’s was my doubles tennis partner and we’re just good friends, nothing more, nothing less.” The gall of this man!

  “Yeah, and I’m Abraham Lincoln,” the gruff biker roared with laughter.

  Cathy’s face flushed with anger. “You heard me! Don’t call me again, Mr. Harrison, or I’ll call the police!”

  The phone got quiet on the other end for a few seconds and then a calm voice came back on the phone. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Roberts. You see, I kinda took a shine to you tonight. I’ve always liked older women and you’re a real fox. I followed you and your “tennis partner” when you left Cody’s. I stayed pretty far back and I never racked my pipes or anything, so you never knew I was behind you. Anyway, I’m sure you wouldn’t want your husband to find out that you and your friend spent over an hour alone at a house in Duval tonight. Would you?”