A Lifetime of Vengeance

by Pete PJ Grondin

  “But we’re not going to let that happen to you, my friend. Have you talked to my financial friend yet?”

  “Yes I did. I have an appointment next week. We’ll be swinging back through here to do a show at the Lakeland Civic Center. Remember when we saw the Stones there? You left the nursery in the middle of the afternoon, when they announced that tickets were on sale. The show sold out in four hours, man. That was unbelievable.”

  “It was a blast.” Diane gave Pat another look like there’s another story that you never told me. Pat looked back at her like there’ll be plenty more where that one came from. What can I say?

  Sean came out to the patio yelling, “Dad, the mail’s here.” He handed the small stack of mail to Pat and headed back inside. Pat leafed through the stack of mostly junk mail, a charge bill, which he handed to Diane. “This one’s for you.” Then he came across an envelope with no return address. It was postmarked Jacksonville, Florida. Their address was handwritten in black ink and was neat but not distinctive. It was addressed to Pat. The others were back talking about the show with Brian. Then they started in on Joe and Lisa, asking about plans. They both turned a bit red with embarrassment. They were non-committal.

  Pat opened the envelope and pulled out two newspaper articles that had been cut from the Florida Times-Union out of Jacksonville. The heading on the first said Couple, Daughter Slain. Pat read the article all the way through. It described the brutal murder of a couple from Moniac, Georgia and the murder/rape of their daughter. It went on to say that the Sheriff’s office had no suspects. The victims were William Eugene Hatcher, Sr. and his wife Darlene, and their fourteen year old daughter. Their son, a member of the United States Navy was at sea when the murders took place. Pat’s head was swimming, and his face must have shown the pain he was experiencing. Diane looked over and said, “What is it sweetie?”

  “Nothing. Anybody else need a beer or a glass of wine?” Joe and Brian both nodded and Pat headed into the kitchen, purportedly to get beer. Pat read the second article. This heading read, Brothers Slain.’ The story told of the brutal slaying of the Henson brothers. The brothers were out on bail from a molestation charge when they were shot and killed. The shooting was with a .38 caliber hand gun. They were both bound and gagged and shot in the genitals. They were left to bleed to death in that condition. The final pieces of the puzzle were in place. Pat shook his head in disbelief. He turned the second article over and read a handwritten note, “I’ll catch up with you soon.” It was signed ‘Radar’.

  Pat was subdued for the rest of the afternoon. He enjoyed everyone’s company, and they vowed to do it again real soon or as soon as Brian could get off the road.

  When everyone left that evening, Diane and Pat relaxed in their living room on the rug in front of the fireplace. Diane asked Pat about the letter. He told her it was from a friend from the Navy. He then asked her if she really wanted to know everything about him. He told her that she may not like the whole story. She replied that she could live without knowing, but that she would always wonder. She also said that she was picking up bits and pieces along the way. Pat looked into her eyes and asked as seriously as he could, “Is that going to be enough for you? I mean, I’m not sure you really want to know. I’ll make you a deal though. If you ever decide that you want to know everything, you just ask. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I have one more thing to do before I can rest easy. I have to go to the grove tomorrow. It may take a few days but I’ll be home every night.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  Pat’s lips curled up slightly at the corners. He leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek then laid back and stared at the fire light reflect off of the ceiling.

  * * *

  Johnny Poleirmo was back at the Orange County Sheriff’s office finishing up his paperwork on the case when Al Porecwzski came over from homicide. “Hey Johnny, nice job with the Lake County boys. Sounds like a real haul; a hundred and forty bales? Street value must be pretty high, no pun intended.” They both chuckled a bit.

  “We were pretty much just along for the ride, but you know what scares me, some of the hardware they had was definitely military grade. Where are these guys getting this stuff? It’s some pretty scary duty out there right now.” Al nodded his head in agreement. “Worse, it’s for what, pot? We wiped out that shipment and there’s already a dozen other dealers scrambling to get the open action. Why are we wasting our time on that stuff? We have some serious crap out there. Crack, Crank, Heroine? All those date rape drugs? And we’re risking our lives on grass. I don’t know, Al. Is it worth it?

  “You got me partner. I just want to make it to fifty-five so I can retire up north. Hell, my folks want to move down here. I can’t wait to get back to New York. Crazy ain’t it?”

  Johnny just smiled and signed the last page of his report. I guess this is what we’re calling success these days.

  Chapter 51

  Pat was at the grove at 7:15 AM. The trees were full of oranges ready to be picked. He pulled one from a tree, pulled out a pocket knife and peeled the outer skin by making four longitudinal cuts at quarter distance apart. He ate the sweet plugs of orange as he waited for his guests to arrive. He’d called a number of people to meet him there throughout the day. His first visitor was a man from a scrap yard. He had dark, rough looking skin and was slightly hunched over starting at his shoulder blades. He looked to be about 60 years old, but Pat guessed at closer to 50. He reckoned the extra ten years of appearance were courtesy of hard work and harder drinking. He told the man what he wanted and asked when he could get started. The man said that he’d be back in less than an hour.

  His second guest was Al Michaels. He tossed Al an orange whose skin was already cut, ready to peel and eat. He asked Al if he would be interested in buying the nursery for a $150,000. Al told him that it was worth well over $500,000. Pat said he knew. He told Al if he wanted to buy it and resell it that was up to him. Al agreed and they shook hands. Pat assured him that he’d stop by his house for a beer before he headed back to Dunellon. They shook hands and agreed to get the paperwork together in the next few days.

  The third visitor was from a real estate company that specialized in commercial sales such as orange groves. Except for the asking price, Jimmy Pitman had the contract all filled in and ready to sign. He looked around the property and said, “Hey, I remember this grove. This used to belong to Mr. and Mrs. Hammerick. You’re one of the brothers that bought it back about ten years ago.”

  “That’s right. You were Mrs. Hammerick’s agent back then.”

  “Old Mrs. Hammerick is still alive and enjoying life up in North Carolina. She sends a postcard once in a while. Why are you selling?”

  “Well, this grove is haunted. There are ghosts everywhere. You see over there by the vault?” Four guys were killed there just about a week ago.” Pat pointed to the remnants of the yellow crime scene tape that had been tied to the trees.

  “I read about that in the papers. One was a Sheriff. He must’ve been a bad egg. They said he was involved in drug protection and some other bad shit. Pardon my language.”

  “No problem. That’s why we’re selling, though.”

  As they talked, a large flatbed truck pulled into the drive approaching the vault. The guys from the scrap metal company were back. They parked and started to unload equipment with a fork lift made for riding in sandy areas like orange groves and beaches.

  Jimmy Pitman asked, “What are they doing here?”

  “One thing I forgot to tell you is that the vault doesn’t come with the grove. These fellows are removing it. I’ll have sand brought in to fill in the hole.”

  “Are you serious? It’ll cost you a ton to remove that thing.”

  “It’s already cost me a ton. Anything else I spend is an investment in my sanity.”

  Jimmy Pitman shook Pat’s hand, took his copy of the agreement and headed back to his car. As he was pulling out, another car p
ulled in. William Hatcher, Jr. walked up to Pat and held out his hand. He didn’t smile or show any emotion at all.

  “I got your note,” Pat said. “How did you figure all this out?”

  “You talk in your sleep for starters. I was afraid that some of our shipmates would think that you were loony. I’m surprised the Navy let you stay in, yackin’ it up like that. Hell you kept me awake many-a-night. Then when you wrote out a few bits and pieces on that notepad in your bunk, and we had a battle stations missile drill, I saw the notes showing from under your bunk. I started to do a little investigative work on my own. It pissed me off. You don’t know what I went through when my little sister was killed.” Hatch paused and looked around the grove. He took a deep breath, popped a slice of orange in his mouth, and savored the taste for a few moments. Then he continued, “It was bad enough that they killed my folks. But my innocent, baby sister . . . I still have nightmares. I figured out who they were, gave the information to the cops, and they said they couldn’t do anything about it. After I caught up with them, well you read the article. The cops knew it was me, but they left me alone. Didn’t even question me. Guess they figured justice was served.”

  “Why’d you take on my problems?”

  “I already have blood on my hands. I’ve got no one left. You got a wife and kids. You’ve got a life.”

  “How’d you get out of that warehouse in Umatilla?”

  There’s a trap door in the floor. It goes to the house. I went into the house and out the side door. I ran along the pasture fence to the road. It took me two hours to make it through that swampy area. I had a boat out on Lake Yale. They were pissed that I was out on the lake so late. I gave them an extra hundred bucks for their trouble and they were happy.”

  “One last question. What’s up with this ‘Radar’ shit? Where’d you come up with that name? Sounds a little ‘secret missionish, don’t you think?”

  “My sister used to call me that, you know, after the guy on MASH. I did it in her honor. I guess it was kind of corny.”

  They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the guys prepare to tear down the vault, thinking about their own ghosts.

  Finally Hatch broke the silence. “You know, I’ll never get over losing my parents and my sister. It hasn’t destroyed my life, but it sure has changed it. It’s gotta be the same for you. True?”

  Pat thought about this for a minute before answering. “It has definitely changed my life. Mike let it destroy his. It consumed him. Joe and I, well . . . we’ll survive. We’re going to exorcise our demons. It starts right here.”

  Another car pulled into the grove. Joe got out and came over to Pat and Hatch.

  Pat turned to greet Joe and said, “I’d like you to meet Hatch, code name Radar.”

  Joe took Hatch’s hand and shook it. He smiled and said, “I admire your work. But what’s with the ‘Radar’ thing?”

  Hatch just shook his head and smiled. “I’ll let Pat tell you that one.

  The three of them stood and watched as the men lit their torches and started to disassemble the vault, a piece at a time. As the walls came down, Pat could feel the ghosts of his past fly away. He felt free for the first time in years.

  The End

  About the Author

  When I was a little boy living in Sandusky, Ohio I was scared to death of alligators. I used to imagine that the gators were under and around my bed, waiting for me to make a wrong move. Maybe I watched too many Tarzan or Jungle Larry movies. But that fear must have been a premonition. My parents first moved our family, all twelve of us kids to Bay City, Michigan, then to Maitland, Florida. Our stay in Maitland was short-lived and we ended up in rural Zellwood, Florida, a half hour north of Orlando and pretty much in the deep south. Now my fear of alligators turned to fascination. In junior high and high school, my friends and I used to swim and canoe at Wekiva Springs State Park. The lake beyond the springs had a number of good sized alligators. As we swam in the lake the gators kept a healthy distance. I’m not sure I’d swim with the gators now that I’m older.

  Growing up in Zellwood had its advantages for a budding writer from north of the Mason Dixon line. I met so many different characters in my junior high school and high school years. Many of their personality traits have made their way into some of my fictional characters.

  It’s been a great education having lived in the north and the south, particularly in the rural south where feelings about the War Between the States run strong. The war may be over but the scars are still there for some.

  I graduated from Apopka Memorial High School and worked in the indoor foliage business. I started my own nursery business while in high school and also worked for others in the nursery business. It was hard work in very hot, humid conditions, working with fungicides, pesticides, and other ‘cides, some of which are now banned. We used to handle Mirex, the fire ant poison (which was banned by the EPA), with our bare hands. I’m still here so it must not have been that bad.

  My travels continued after my stint in the south. After selling the nursery business I moved back to Sandusky, Ohio and started working in retail stores. It was at the May Company (now Macy’s) that I met my wife, Debbie. After realizing that I had little future in retail, I joined the US Navy in the Nuclear Power Program, stationed on the USS John Adams in Charleston, South Carolina. I again encountered a mix of the south and the north. The locals in Charleston were a great mix of personalities, while my shipmates were an odd mix of intellectuals and grunt workers, all with their own personality traits. Again this is great fodder for the budding writer. It was while living in Goose Creek, South Carolina that Debbie and I were married.

  After an eight year stint in the Navy, I again returned to Sandusky and started my civilian career at the Davis-Besse Nuclear Power Station. I work in the Information Technology Department as a Process Mapping Specialist.

  The political climate in Sandusky is always charged with small city politics. In 1993, I ran for the City Commission and was elected to a four year term. My time on the commission was charged with drama as we had a new city manager who ruffled the feathers of County Commissioners and nearby Township Trustees. During my tenure, I worked with corporate CEOs, city, county, and state officials, and citizens with all sorts of agendas. There was never a dull moment. My one claim to fame was being satirized by our local cartoonist in the Sandusky Register over a comment that I made regarding our sewage treatment plant.

  I only served a single term on the Commission and opted to start my writing career. I didn’t get far into the project when my wife and I decided to build a house. We did the general contracting, carpentry, electric and plumbing, floor tile and roofing. It was a real adventure. Our marriage actually survived the stress and strain of the adventure.

  Debbie and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary in January 2009. We have two children, both in college studying business. We also have a Calico cat named Jasmine. My son has a Bull Terrier named Capone and my daughter has a cat named Grady. I have eleven brothers and sisters. Debbie has a brother and a sister. We have a load of nieces and nephews. They are concentrated in Florida and Ohio, though a few are in other states.

  I started writing my first novel about the McKinney brothers in the early 1990s. I finally finished A Lifetime of Vengeance in 2005. It took over twelve years to get the first half finished. It took about six months to finish the second half. My second novel, A Lifetime of Deception, was written in twelve months. I guess there’s something to those Idiot Guides. Advance copies of the third McKinney Brothers Novel, A Lifetime of Exposure, are available now, though the official release is not until October 2009. The next novel, A Lifetime of Terror is outlined. I expect the book to be completed and ready for release in the summer of 2010. I know you’re going to enjoy the continuing adventures of the McKinney Brothers.

  Peter J. Grondin

  Join me on line:

  My Homepage www.pjgrondin.com

  My Blog pjgron.wordpress.com

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