Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy

by R. E. Schobernd

  During the six hour ride, Clay learned he was the first person to know about Tony’s new boat, Anna hadn’t even heard the news yet. Tony had ordered a gross of specially designed caps, and handed one to Clay as he put his on. The caps were very nautical looking; navy blue with gold embroidered anchors and roping on the bills. Chi-Lady was stitched in the center of the cap in gold outlined in red.

  By the time they berthed the boat back in slip fifty one, the men had discussed intimate details of their lives never before spoken of to anyone else. Clay hadn’t even told Jimmy some of the things he shared with Tony. A strong bond had formed and a secure sense of trust was shared by each of them. Clay felt it appropriate for his deceased best friend’s father to evolve into being his best friend also. When they parted after dinner, they had made plans to attend a baseball game together the following Tuesday afternoon.

  Chapter 17

  On a Saturday afternoon in October Clay went home after attending an antique show. As he passed by the garage he noted his parent’s car was gone. Inside the kitchen he checked out the fridge for a snack. Grabbing a cold piece of polish sausage from one container and a cold pancake left from the morning’s breakfast, he made a sandwich to go with the beer he stuck under his elbow. Walking by the T.V. he switched it on, changed the channel from 5 to 2 and started to sit down. While the set was warming up he thought he heard a sound like crying or sobbing. After quickly flipping the T.V. off before the sound came up, he eased down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The door to Lizzy’s room was about two inches from being closed and he strained to listen to a conversation she was having with someone, apparently on the phone.

  “Johnny, you’re a lying bastard.”

  “Damn it Johnny, you and those two friends of yours raped me!”

  “Yes you did. You set me up. You put something in my drink, because I don’t remember much afterward. But I do remember you unbuttoning my blouse and playing with my tits in front of them, and I vaguely remember you holding me down while Greg fucked me on the couch. Damn it Johnny that’s rape! I’ve got bruises all over. What the hell did you bastards do to me?”

  “Oh No! Stop it, you weren’t drunk and neither was I."

  “No, Johnny, I did not ASK for it, or enjoy it.”

  Then there was silence while she apparently listened to Johnny, followed by more crying and sobbing.

  “Stop doing this to me! Why couldn’t we just make love like we used to? I love being with you except for when you start this kinky crap. No! Yes, I want you to leave me alone. Listen to me; I’m not going along with what you did to me last night. I won’t be a gang bang for you and your filthy friends.”

  “Then get somebody else to do the sick crap you want, and don’t ever call me again, you perverted son of a bitch.”

  He heard the receiver drop on the phone set and heard more crying and sobbing.

  Moving down the hallway and back to the living room, he switched the T.V. back on, sat down, opened the beer and started eating the sandwich. After the sound came up, he heard the door to the bathroom at the end of the hall being closed. What the hell kind of trash had his sister gotten involved with now?

  Thinking of the one sided conversation he had just heard caused him to feel pity, along with a sense of protectiveness for his sister. But at the same time, he knew she was one of those emotionally weak people who are taken advantage of by scum like her “Johnny”. She should have been able to see what kind of person he was before getting suckered into a situation like last night.

  Listening to the phone conversation had aroused feelings of anger and hatred for a man who would drug and then gang rape someone he strung along as his girlfriend. The bastard doesn’t deserve to live, he caught himself thinking. Get those thoughts out of your mind, he quickly told himself. I can’t go around killing every jerk I take a dislike for. If Lizzy is strong enough to stay away from the bastard it will be over.

  Lizzy walked through the living room on her way to the kitchen and spoke a muted “Hi Clay” as she passed.

  “I heard crying a few minutes ago, is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I just broke up with my jerk of a boyfriend. So nothing new is it?"

  “It’s what dating is all about Sis; finding the right person for you. Hang in there, you’ll find the right guy. Just be careful; there’s some real trash out there waiting to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it, those are all I ever find.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re looking in the wrong places and keep finding the same wrong types. Find a guy like Tom or Walter, move to the suburbs and start a family.”

  “Thanks, big brother, but I’m not ready to spend the rest of my life with some nerd and a bunch of whining babies.”

  Lizzy went to the kitchen, got a Coke and returned, heading toward her room. On the way past Clay, she stopped by his chair, leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for listening and caring, big brother.”

  “Lizzy, I do care. But I can’t solve your boyfriend problems. You have to make better choices up front. Maybe you should back off from the type of men you’re seeing and start finding someone more like yourself.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should, and maybe someday I will. I’ve got to learn who I am and what I am, and maybe then I’ll do something different. But I will promise you, I’ll at least think about what you’ve said.”

  He had finished eating, but couldn’t get interested in the golf match being televised. Lizzy’s last statements had carried a hidden message he was certain. Maybe a shrink could make sense of it, but he couldn’t. As a big brother he felt he should do something about this Johnny character and his low life friends. But what?.

  Clay thought the episode with Lizzy and Johnny was over, until he went to get the mail late Tuesday morning. In with the usual letters, bills and advertisements was a business size envelope addressed by hand to Lizzy, without a return address. Whatever was inside was thick and had required extra postage.

  After laying the family mail on the countertop just inside the kitchen, he took his mail and the letter addressed to Lizzy to his room. Inside the envelope he found a packet of color photographs wrapped in a piece of lined tablet paper with a rubber band around them. The pictures were of three men having sex with Lizzy. In several of them it was hard to see her face because there was a man’s naked torso in front of it. In several other shots she was made up in leather harness’s and leather restraints with the men all over her. Her facial expression wasn’t of pleasure or distress, but rather of numbness. Throwing the pictures aside he read the note.

  “Lizzy, we’re having another party at my place Saturday night and you had better be there. You belong to me. If you don’t show up, these pictures and more like them will be sold to a magazine and copies will be delivered to your mom and dad. See you Saturday, or suffer the consequences.”

  By the time Clay finished reading the short note his blood pressure was soaring; he had developed a feeling of rage never experienced before. So, these dumb bastards won’t take no for an answer, he muttered under his breath. And according to the note, he had until Saturday night to put a stop to this mess. Those pictures would be enough to break his Mom’s heart; if it didn’t give her a heart attack on the spot.

  If he would talk to Lizzy and get their addresses he could go talk to them and put a stop to their games. To go that route he would need to confront Lizzy with the pictures and embarrass her. And if this Johnny lies and sells even part of the pictures to a magazine like he threatened, someone could recognize Lizzy and it could get back to Mom and Dad. I’ve only got until Saturday to resolve this mess so I had better get it right the first time. I’ll handle Johnny in a way I know will finish it.

  Lizzy was at school or at work and his mother had gone shopping. Upstairs in Lizzy’s room Clay opened drawers until he found one with several bundles of pictures with rubber bands around them. Some loose pictures on the top were of L
izzy and a man in his late twenties or early thirties. The man was handsome in a rough, roguish way, with a sort of self assured sneer in his facial expression. Several of the pictures were taken at a park, and in one of them they were leaning against the trunk of a new red Cadillac Eldorado with dealer plates on it. Several other shots were of Johnny and two other men throwing Frisbees; the same two men in the porno pictures.

  Clay spent the next hour thinking about an initial course of action, then left the house and drove to the Twelfth Street Saloon.

  After grabbing a beer from Mickey, Clay approached Tony. He was standing by the open front door. The temperature had been in the seventies around two in the afternoon, but was beginning to cool down with evening approaching.

  As they exchanged greetings Tony said “I was just debating whether to call you now or later tonight. Let’s step outside for a minute”.

  Moving away from the entrance, but still on Twelfth Street Tony said, “I’ve got a cop on my payroll who says another cop, who I’m also paying, has been the target of an investigation and is going to spill his guts to internal affairs. They’ve pulled him off patrol and put him on a desk where they can watch him and lean on him daily. I need the bastard hit, and fast. Will you do it?”

  “You know I will; and don’t try to pay me. But, I came to see you for an important favor too. I need information on a guy. All I know about him is his first name, the make of car he drives and the license number of the dealer tags. Will you have your police contact get me the info? I’ll pay what ever he charges.”

  “Yeah, I can do it, but you won’t pay shit. Must be pretty important, huh?”

  “Yeah, it’s important. Some guys set my sister up and have some very embarrassing pictures they’re blackmailing her with. I need to make the problem go away before this weekend.”

  “Give me the mother fucker’s license number and I’ll have a name and address to go with it in the morning. My good cop can get the dealers name and who the car is assigned too.”

  “I never thought something like this would happen, I mean a situation in my personal life where I’d have to kill someone. But here it is. I know mixing business and personal problems isn’t supposed to be done, but this thing needs to be resolved.”

  “I never look at it in those terms. A problem is a problem. Some people you can talk to, others need to be hit up side the head to get their attention; and the real hard heads need to be whacked and buried. It’s their choice as much as mine. Such is life, kid.”

  “The irony of this whole situation is three years ago I would have stayed out of this or found the guy and confronted him, or gone to the police. Now I have no qualms about killing three more people, because it’s the simplest and most direct solution. I keep telling myself I haven’t changed, but there are times like this when I know damn well I have, and it kind of scares me. Things are happening too fast.”

  “You have changed. So have I. We all change constantly. Some changes are slow and deliberate while others are forced on us quickly. Yours was forced upon you and it was quick. But look around you. Neighborhoods change, cities change, societies change, hell the boundaries of countries all over the world are still changing. Everything changes over time, nothing is permanent and forever. You made a life altering decision when you chose to be a hit man. Now you understand this is what I was warning you about. Not all the jobs are going to involve strangers. Over the years a few are bound to be people you know or people who have ties to close friends or favorite relatives.”

  “I guess. When I accepted the Memphis job I prepared myself emotionally to do people I didn’t know and had no ties to; a detached, emotionless connection, if you understand what I mean. This is different. It’s more like when I did O’Neil. There are feelings and emotional ties to someone I love and care about. I wasn’t prepared for this to be an ongoing part of it. Even though my sister would agree she was shit on and these bastards deserve to be punished, I doubt she would want me to kill them. It’s just one more secret I can’t discuss with anyone but you.”

  “Look kid, you’ve found the power to make permanent and decisive changes to alter situations, whereas before you might just chip away at the edges and hope they turned out the way you wanted. Listen, we’ll talk anytime you need to, except for right now I’ve got to get to the airport and meet Anna. She’s been visiting Adrianna and is due to land in an hour.”

  “Thanks, Tony. And say hi to Anna for me.”

  Both men walked back inside the bar and Clay stopped to have another beer with Joey while Tony went out the back door to his car.

  He and Joey had developed a strange relationship since working together. Each respected the other, even though they would not describe themselves as good friends. There were no common ties to bind them except for their past working relationship. But in the end they could talk amicably and each felt he could trust and count on the other for support if needed.

  The following morning Clay was at the bar, after spending from seven to nine hitting some promising yard sales. He had found three pieces of cut glass and a set of four matching oak chairs at good prices, plus a good Winchester 30-06 hunting rifle with a scope.

  “I’ve got the information you asked for,” Tony informed him when they had gone upstairs. “The guy you’re looking for is named John Allen Rocco. Here’s his address. He’s a punk, been involved in some minor shit, got a two page sheet and has three previous charges of sexual abuse, one of a minor. He’s never been convicted because the victims always drop the charges and won’t prosecute.”

  “Well, he’s going to get worse than charged this time. I’m getting an idea for solving both of our problems at the same time. I’ll need a couple of days to work out the details but I think I’m close to a solution.”

  “The information on my problem is in this envelope with your guy. Here, and don’t take any more time than you absolutely need to; my snitch say’s internal affairs is leaning real hard on this guy and he’s ready to crack. If he talks I’ll probably be able to avoid jail time, but some other high ups might not. According to my snitch the bastard thinks he has real incriminating testimony. The snitch doesn’t think he has any hard evidence on me, but he might on the others.”

  “He’ll be taken care of soon. Something else I need is a hot pistol with a silencer. Is it possible to get one linked to some other serious jobs in the short time we have? I could use a car too; a fast one.”

  “No problem. I have such a gun put away and can lay my hands on any time it’s needed. And you know the car’s no big deal. In fact, if you have a particular make, model and year in mind just name it.”

  “Just get me something fast and agile; and not too conspicuous. Here’s a list of two other items I’ll need also. Could you have Joey get these for me?”

  Clay continued, “One thing I am concerned about is police surveillance on this guy. If they’re pressuring him to flip over, they may be watching to see he doesn’t run, or to avoid the very thing we’re planning for him. I don’t want to walk into a situation I can’t get out of. But I also want to use his death for my own purpose also.”

  “Be careful you don’t get these things too complicated by trying to tie them together. Two separate and clean hits would be a lot simpler.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But I want this Johnny bastard to suffer longer than just killing him would accomplish.”

  “Just be sure you don’t screw up.”

  “If I have any doubts about any part of it I’ll hit him independently. Have the gun and hollow point bullets here tomorrow and let me know where to pick the car up. I’ll have a plan together by then. I’ll come by before noon. I’m going to stick around a little while and study what’s in the packet.”

  Tony went back downstairs and Clay began looking through the file on the crooked cop. His name was Ronald Weaver, fifty one years old, married with three kids, living in a small sub-division four miles from the police station he was assigned to. The man worked a rotating shift an
d the enclosed shift schedule indicated he was working evenings through the coming weekend. A picture showed him to be a little overweight with a slight paunch, a pleasant looking fellow. Three commendations had been awarded to him over his career, the last one nine years ago. He was a patrolman, with no special skills or job enhancing value. Looked like an average cop who had taken the bait of easy extra money. The information on John Rocco gave an address in a good area of town, in an apartment complex. His rap sheet ran from early teens to his present age of twenty eight. He had graduated from minor thefts to a charge of receiving and distributing stolen cars. Johnny had turned against his accomplices and testified for the state in exchange for not being prosecuted. His last listed employment was a Cadillac dealership where he was a salesman. At least with him, Clay knew what his plans were for Saturday night. His personal section showed two ex-wives and three kids.

  When he drove down the street where the Weavers lived Clay found it to be a well maintained neighborhood. Yards were mowed, bushes trimmed and woodwork on the houses painted. Most of the houses were ranches with brick fronts and attached single car garages. At the house number he was looking for a 57’ Chevy hard top with big rear tires and a hood scoop was parked on the street in front of the house. Most likely it was a teen aged son’s car. A small single bulb yard light on a post stood near the sidewalk and thirty feet from the house. Thick, mature bushes ran along the side of the garage and continued down the side of the house toward the back yard. There were no side yard fences, but a chain link fence stretched across the back yard. Tall evergreens stood guard on each side of the garage, crowding the entrance. Across the street and down two houses a dark blue sedan contained two other guards. The cops on surveillance duty were trying to look casual, but why the hell else would two men spend the day sitting in a car in this neighborhood? As he drove by them, Clay turned his head away and down, as if adjusting the radio and maintained his speed to the first corner. Turning right, he drove to the next street, and again turned to the right. On the right side a community swimming pool took up most of the block, with a playground extending to the chain link fence behind Weavers house. A parking lot was located behind the west end of the pool area and adjacent to an asphalt basketball court. Having seen enough, Clay left and drove to the address listed for Rocco.