by William Cain
At times, she finds herself staring blankly, not really fixated on anything. She is so lost and is easily set adrift, just staring into space, depressed too. At first, she would snap herself out of it and do something—anything. But these long stretches alone feed her mind’s churning imagination and begin to be addictive. They become more enjoyable, and even though she knows it isn’t terribly healthy for her, she allows herself to think of another life. In this otherworldly reality, she is wealthy, leading a liberated self-sufficient life of luxury.
Reggi's careful about letting her thoughts wander like that, and remembers her hospital stay from the time she was with her first husband, John Paulson, so many years ago. She was arrested, and after the court ordered “evaluation,” she’d spent time in a special care facility because she had tried to hurt him. Her medications, which she’d stopped using, made her world fuzzy. So she doesn’t want a repeat of that.
Soon, however, thinking about a better life becomes an unbreakable habit that she fell into without even trying. And then it became impossible to stop. She doesn’t want it to stop. She begins to repeat events from her new social life over and over, reliving them, making them better.
She enjoys them.
Chapter 1 Elsie
July 17th
Accidents will happen. Colman
Ken and Elsie wake up early to another beautiful day high in the Blue Ridge Mountains inside Heritage Hills, refreshed. He can see she’s already put her nightclothes back on, and as he watches her slip from under the blanket, he admires her shape and grace. She feels him looking at her and she turns her head over her shoulders and smiles. She knows he finds her desirable, and she loves him. Last night was beautiful. It doesn’t hurt that he’s a bit over average down there. “I wish we could put the clock back forty years,” she says to herself.
She enters the kitchen, prepares the coffee and turns it on. She takes some eggs, apple, and orange from the fridge and begins to make breakfast while the coffee brews. Soon Ken walks in after having taken a quick shower. He’s dressed in his housecoat and asks her if she needs any help, to which she shakes her head and asks him to take a seat at the breakfast bar.
He settles down on a barstool facing the kitchen, so he can spend time with her before he leaves, and then announces his plans to leave for the airport. “I’m taking a noon flight to Chicago. I’ll leave in a little bit. It takes forty minutes to get there, but I want to stop at the Cracker Barrel first to pick up some cheeses to take to the guys.”
Elsie looks over at him and advises, “Don’t go soft, Ken. Your guys smell that. Word gets out, and trouble follows.”
“I get it,” he replies. “But they also like cheese. They know what kind of nail I am. If anything, that’s the word that leaks out.” Then, still watching her, he changes the subject, “You were beautiful last night. You’re always beautiful. I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, did you know that?”
She looks him over while she stirs in some whole milk, adding it to the eggs, whisks the mixture, and then pours it into the pan. Looking directly into his blue eyes, pointing her wooden spoon down her stare, she comically reprimands him, “Ok, settle down, mister, or you’ll be late. Have some eggs and fruit.” She puts two plates on the counter. She joins him and they eat together, making the small talk a long-married couple finds easy to share.
Leaving the counter, Ken returns to the bedroom and begins to pack. Elsie enters the bath, and Jones sees her disrobe and turn on the shower. When she’s done, she leaves the bath, and he’s seated on the bedroom accent chair with his feet propped up on the bed, reading the paper. He’d finished packing. It’s a small case, as he’s only going for the night and returning tomorrow in the early morning.
Elsie dresses and Ken finally puts the paper down, telling her he’ll return tomorrow in the am. He kisses her gently and leaves for the airport. On his way out of the driveway, he sees a neighbor, apparently out walking her dog. They smile and wave to each other. People are really friendly here. Gotta love it, he thinks, smiling.
He drives into Saluda in order to pick up Gangi, his right-hand man, then heads to the store and buys some cheeses. Alberto Gangi is a short, muscular man with a full head of graying, peppered hair. He was promoted to Underboss after years as a hitman, after he served as Capo of the gambling business, and made a very high profile reputation for himself. He serves the DiCaprio Family only, and his allegiance is always front and center. When Gennarro Battaglia retired, he brought his number two with him. Gangi never married and instead favors importing his women one or two at a time directly from Chicago. As a man with his background and history, he knows a lot of girls.
After parking the car, the two of them walk into the airport and are met by security, who then show them to another room where his pilots are waiting.
Another twenty minutes and the private jet is in the air, bound for Chicago.
◆◆◆
Back in Heritage Hills, as Jones was leaving, Agent Juvieux receives the go-ahead call from the FBI team director. He’s told things are in place, that someone will be tailing Jones when he lands until Juvieux and his fellow agents arrive in Chicago. The destination agent will make his report, and Juvieux will then take over.
“Understood.” As he hangs up the phone, he speaks loudly enough for the entire room to hear. “Shut things down, it’s time to head out. There’s a plane waiting for us in Asheville. And make sure someone does the dishes. The last time we did this we came back to an ant farm.”
The agents begin to scramble and turn everything off—televisions, cameras, lights, equipment, all aimed at the sprawling home of Ken Jones. As Juvieux passes by, and before the front position cam is shut down, he looks into the monitor and notices a woman staring at the house from behind a tree. The agent handling the equipment tells Juvieux, “She was there earlier too, when Jones was loading his car.” Juvieux briefly watches this, then it’s turned off and he continues on.
When everything is buttoned down, the agents pull the equipment travel bag used for mobile surveillance and grab their own bags they packed last night. Within fifteen minutes, they’re off to the airport to follow Jones.
◆◆◆
As Jones’s plane lands in Chicago, he’s met there by his nephew Vincent, who’s now running the business, and they are driven to a mansion in the suburb of Glencoe on Lake Michigan. It’s July, and the breeze from the lake cools the hot day. Inside, they are shown to a large round hall. Once the doors are closed, the occupants find the walls seamless so the room appears to have no doors at all. This is a unique, cavernous hall specially built to be soundproof, so they won’t be overheard.
There are fifty or so Chicago DiCaprio Family members inside, and as the ranking associates take their seats, the capos sit against the wall of the chamber. Up for discussion is the fate of the O’Hare unit, or splinter group. They’re not behaving. They’re not even Italian. Hell, they’re not even fully Irish, but a mixed-up bloodline. They’re second class Family underlings used by all of the Chicago Families for distasteful business like human trafficking and turf war battles with the Chinese Tong. Still, the DiCaprios are mainly responsible for their behavior, and this very private meeting has been limited to just this Family.
The O’Hare group is skimming and taking certain liberties with the Family’s women—and they’ve been doing it for a while. It’s not a lot, but it’s against the rules, and it makes the DiCaprios and other Chicago Families look bad. Attempts were made to make them stop. But the O’Hare people are a nasty bunch, and they won’t stop until they’ve been punished. Their behavior is an insult, and the discussion that takes place begins to get heated. Words like “dishonor” and “Mick” and phrases that boil down to “take them out” are thrown around. At last, the group is going to vote to either annihilate them or to have them suffer a penalty that amounts to ten times what they’ve taken.
Before this, though, all eyes turn to Biggie. And his words are this: “Neithe
r of these will do. Some of you won’t be satisfied until real hurt is leveled on the O’Hares. Some of you will take it into your own hands, make your own plans. This is wrong. Annihilating the group is also wrong. We need them. They do the things we don’t want to do. And taking action against them makes our Family vulnerable. Still, we need to make a personal statement. My counsel is to take this to the O’Hares. Tell them that in order to keep the peace, they have to do the job on one of their own, and it has to be done that day. This way, we see blood, and business continues, and the O’Hares see the error of their ways.”
A hush had fallen over the room since Biggie began speaking. “Don Battaglia has given us his guidance, put it on the ballot and let’s vote on the three measures,” Vincent directs.
◆◆◆
After the meeting, Biggie finds Jennifer in his bedroom. She’s petite with jet black long hair parted down the middle. When she speaks, her voice is small and sweet. She is stunningly beautiful, sporting flawless olive skin and a voluptuous body. He found her when he was shopping for Elsie at Saks. He asked her opinion on a blouse. She knew he wanted to get into her pants. He knew it. That was seven years ago.
She’s his goomah, his mistress. It’s not uncommon for men in his position, even retired ones, to have one in her position, so to speak. He doesn’t love Elsie any less, but he loves Jennifer too, or at least he loves making love to her. It’s the same thing to him.
They spend the night together, and the next morning while between his knees she makes a convincing argument for Jones to stay another day.
“Gennarro, I’m lonely.” She pauses, looks up at him, and tells him, “Besides, I haven’t seen much of you lately, and I’m beginning to think you love your wife more than me.”
In order to have her resume, he reluctantly agrees. He calls Elsie and delivers the news. She’s disappointed, but knows she can’t fight this man. He made other plans, so she decides to go out and do some shopping. He’s not coming home today.
Later that day, into evening and after dinner, Biggie has Gangi order up some quality cocaine. After it’s delivered to their room, they do a few lines. And as the evening progresses, they lose their clothes and enjoy each other’s bodies.
Her finely toned and curved body is built for sex, and, at the age of forty-one, she’s not too old and she’s not too young, and she loves stroking his penis. It’s large and becomes erect instantly. No encouragement necessary. That’s what really gets her in the mood. That he gets so excited, and it’s just for her.
She turns over and rises to her hands and knees, and he enters her from behind, slowly. With coke-driven passion, he has complete control over himself, and she loves how long he takes and how he makes her feel. Biggie senses this and it serves only to heighten the experience for him, and her. He’s strong, and he slowly penetrates her over and over, until he lets himself go and they fall together, laughing like teenagers.
He’s happy he stayed.
◆◆◆
July 18th
In Heritage Hills, Elsie hangs up from speaking with Ken. He decided to stay another night. She knows what he’s up to, but she doesn’t care. He belongs to her, and that will never change. She puts her coffee down and decides on her way to their bedroom to go to Biltmore Park Town Square and do some shopping. Maybe she’ll pick up something new to wear. Then she’ll visit the Fresh Market and get dinner.
After she’s showered and dressed, she sees herself in the mirror. Thinking out loud, she tells herself, “Gee Elsie, you don’t even need makeup. He’d never give you up.” Nope, they’ve been in love since they were kids. And, after the way they made love the other night, she’s more than certain that he wants and needs her now more than ever.
Elsie, throwing on her swing coat, heads to the garage to jump in the Mercedes SUV. As she passes by the kitchen window, she notices a woman walking down the driveway. It’s a pretty long driveway, and Elsie turns around and heads for the front door to greet the visitor.
When the visitor sees Elsie open the door, she looks a little startled, but Elsie doesn’t take notice. Quickly thinking, the woman stretches out her hand and introduces herself as Betty Swinson. In her southern drawl, she explains that she is chair of the women’s golf league this year. They shake, and Elsie offers her a cup of tea and to please come inside.
As they walk through the doorway, Elsie leaves her swing coat. Betty looks at the expensive trappings and notices an oddly shaped heavy ornamental bowl on the antique foyer table. It almost looks like a museum piece.
Sitting down on the couch next to the fireplace, they face each other and begin to make small talk. The woman, at times, is looking over Elsie’s shoulder, so much so that Elsie believes someone might be behind her. Adjusting her position, she casually glances there and sees no one, so she just tells herself she’s overreacting. Betty, however, has a little problem making eye contact, but Elsie brushes this off.
“I see you were headed out, so I won’t take much time,” the woman says politely, getting down to business.
“Nonsense,” Elsie tells her. “Let’s get to know each other. We’re new here. Our New Member Introduction Party is next week. Are you coming to that?”
“Yes, I am. I still remember mine. The members here really made me feel very welcome. That was a fun night, and I made a lot of new friends.”
Then Betty tells her, “You have beautiful eyes,” which makes Elsie blush a little. Then she notices the woman looking at her cleavage, making Elsie uncomfortable and a little sorry she invited her in.
“Let me make some coffee,” Elsie says and stands up. Her visitor is staring at her. No problem with eye contact now, she thinks.
After an awkward pause, with the two of them looking at each other, Betty tells her in a decidedly monotone manner, “Don’t bother with that.” It’s almost like an order, and, in a lower voice tinged with derision, she says, “I’m sure you’re very busy.” She looks down.
As Elsie slowly takes her place again, she thinks, she’s strange. I hope everyone here isn’t like this.
The woman looks up and, smiling, tells her, “We have a fundraiser next month. If you and your husband would like to come, it’s five hundred. It’s up to you. Heck, I don’t even know if you play golf.” she ends laughing strangely, and somewhat forced.
Elsie sees her opportunity to get rid of this weird person. She’ll give her what she came for—money. She has plenty of that. “Wait right here. Let me get my checkbook and I’ll make it out right now.” Elsie stands up and almost runs into the kitchen, glad to see Betty on her way.
Returning from the kitchen, she begins to enter the living room, but her visitor is standing in the doorway, and Elsie almost runs into her. Startled, she says, “What are you doing?”
A moment goes by and Betty replies calmly, “You asked me to follow you,” then adds, “You have beautiful blue eyes.”
At this, Elsie gets the feeling something is wrong and is a little creeped out all at the same time.
Elsie is turning to the counter to make the check out when she notices the woman has put tight gloves on. Suddenly this looks like a hit. Her skin crawls, and she struggles not to panic.
Betty tells her, “HHCC Women’s Golf League. You can make the check out to that.”
Elsie had completely forgotten about the checkbook, so dumbfounded by what was happening. Still, she nervously makes the check out and hands it to her, then tells her she’ll take her to the front door.
Leading the woman, they pass into the foyer. As Elsie reaches for her swing coat, she begins to turn around to face the visitor and say goodbye. Quickly, the visitor picks up the heavy bowl she had seen earlier, and, with Elsie’s back still to her, she swings the bowl in one swift motion. It lands with a crack squarely into the side of Elsie’s head, causing her to bounce off the wall to her left.
It hurts so much, Elsie doesn’t even cry out. She feels foreign to her own body, but quickly remembers where she is and who she’s with. She
knows she’s passing out and struggles to remain standing. Quickly, she runs past the woman into the living room. The woman tries to stop her, but Elsie breaks free. She’s wild with terror and self-preservation.
The woman follows her, and Elsie, panting, says, “Your name isn’t Betty, is it. Someone sent you, didn’t they?” Elsie can feel blood dripping into her blouse. She sees a vase on an end table. She snatches it up and throws it at the woman’s head. It’s not a very good throw, and, after the woman dodges it, the vase lands against one of the sliding glass doors that leads to the rear deck, and both the door and the vase shatter in a loud crash.
The woman standing on the other side of the couch doesn’t say anything. She just stares at her and gives Elsie a grotesque smile. Still holding the bowl, she moves to her left to step around the couch. Elsie also moves, uneasily, to her left. Her head is pounding, bleeding, and she can feel it swelling.
“I’ll call out for my husband if you don’t leave. Now!” she sobs.
“Oh no! I’m so afraid.” The visitor holds her fingers to her lips in mock fear.
“He’s not here,” the woman tells her, which comes out more as a statement than anything else. A declaration of fact. Then, she quickly steps toward Elsie.
Elsie runs for the kitchen to get a knife. She’s frantic, and she trips, falling onto the living room floor next to the coffee table. As she rises, frenzied, the woman makes contact once again with the bowl, in the same spot as before, with a loud thud, and Elsie rolls onto her back under the coffee table. The woman stands over her and gazes at her through the glass. Suddenly, and in one wild swing, she brings the bowl down onto the table and the glass top shatters into thousands of tiny pieces, showering Elsie, who closes her eyes to avoid them.
The woman moves quickly, reaches down to Elsie’s feet, and yanks her roughly from under the table’s frame. Then, while Elsie continues to fall deeper into her delirium and remains unmoving, the woman rests her knees on Elsie’s arms and sits on her chest, pinning her.
