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The Lady's Intrigue Part I
by Karen Snyder
Part One
April 22
An unfolding series of events caught my attention as I peered through the window. With headlights on, two late model, black Limousines turned into the parking lot. The windshield wipers arced, slapped, and swished away rain every couple of seconds. Mesmerized, I blinked.
The lady real estate agent across the desk smiled at my curiosity as I returned my attention to the unique get together. "Ohmygod," I said. Rarely a pair limos arrived simultaneously, anywhere.
„I know.‰ She gathered and arranged papers. „Guess I'm getting used to it.‰
A formally dressed chauffeur rose, opened an umbrella, walked around and opened the door for both cars. Of course I could not hear any conversations through the thick glass even though their mouths moved. I only heard the agent across the mahogany desk. "And the payment is ready?"
"The money's in my new account and can be transferred immediately." My vision returned to one of the men who spoke into a cell phone inches from the window. „Can they not see through this glass?‰
„That side is tinted.‰
„There's five of them.‰
"This goes on a lot," the lady said. "I'm sorry for the interruption."
"Very interesting." I paused. "Don't worry about it."
"Um-hm. I've thought about moving."
"Who are they?" I asked and momentarily returned my gaze to her.
She mouthed, "I'm not sure, but I've heard rumors."
I looked back outside and lowered my voice even though she and I were the only people in the room. "Mafia?" I asked incredulously.
"I don't know," she said. "But--" her eyebrows expressively pushed upward into what I considered an answer in the affirmative.
Six well-dressed Italian-American men emerged, and converged under the eaves of the next-door, unmarked office. Less than fifty feet away, they stood and quietly talked.
The lady's lip curved. "A business meeting."
"Really?" My brow crinkled. "Wow." I glanced their way and down at the papers.
The tallest most able-bodied man looked my way. I was almost sure he didn't see me. He wore new style business, black, summer-suit. His demeanor and appearance seemed familiar, but I didn't know him.
Surely he wasn't from Southern Illinois, but from a megaopolis such as New York or Miami. Local people didn't dress up too often. His hair was cut just so-so, his body was built of solid muscle, and he could pass as a model for a men's fashion magazine. In what seemed to be a nervous gesture, he raised his left hand to remove his reading glasses. In the process, a Rolex watch and multi-jeweled ring caught my attention. The other men smoked, but he chewed gum. He was much younger than his associates. I guessed his age to be thirty-five years old: a year or so older than myself.
Reality returned when the agent said, "And all you have to do is sign here and here and the house is yours."
After unzipping a briefcase side pocket, I grasped a Cross pen, and signed at the flagged X's. While waiting, the agent rested her chin in her fingertips and her eyes also roamed outside.
"Out of curiosity, why are they standing out there?" I asked as I penned in my full name, Jetta Luanne Carlson.
"They're conducting business." She nodded and smiled. „The intrigue of danger. Right?‰
"Yeah." I stopped a moment, turned the page and scribbled my first name on the line. Five new questions formed, but I remained silent. I figured she was too busy to listen to nonsense about strange next-door business meetings. How frivolous of me to become so caught up in the realm of gangsters.
I signed my name, as the real estate agent tore the sheets apart. "It&Mac226;s a private business meeting, I guess."
"Oh, okay." I paused. "Outside in the rain?" I couldn't help but smile.
"I guess. You know. Spying and stuff does go on in the gangster world. I act like I never see what's happening."
"It&Mac226;s probably for the best you ignore it all. But you know something?‰ I tapped the pen to the desktop. „One of those men looks familiar. Who is he?"
"He's Chance LaRossa--New York."
"Oh man. The one on CNN all the time?"
"Sure." She handed me copies of the papers. "Him."
"He's not the one the New York Prosecutor is trying to--"
"Yes. 'Fraid so."
I wondered what he was doing in Illinois, but was afraid to ask more questions about such dangerous topics.
„He&Mac226;s thinking about buying a summer home here?‰
„Oh?‰
After I signed the papers, we shook hands. "Thank you very much. It's been nice doing business with you." She gave me the keys and I turned toward the door.
„It was nice meeting you Jetta.‰
„And you too, Linda,‰ I said. Thank you," I said. I picked up my purse, slipped on the gray raincoat, pushed the glass door open, and went outside. Rain pitter-pattered on the walks, so I pushed the umbrella's metal ring until it thumped open.
Thank goodness. The house deal ended. As my high heels clicked through the puddles, I whiffed the freshness of ozone. My black Gold Edition Lexus was a hundred feet north. I walked toward it relieved because I was free to move in to my new home.
I neared the group of gangsters and almost felt their eyes upon my person, so I moved quickly. I glimpsed Chance&Mac226;s gaze and peered down.
A red and blue mailbox zinged. I screamed. „My God.‰ I looked around. The metal-to-metal sound zinged again. Sparks shot upward off a pole. Men shouted and scurried for cover. Gun shots! A bullet whistled by my head. „Someone&Mac226;s trying to kill us.‰ I could be killed any second, I thought. In all directions, I glanced. Where should I hide? A car sped toward me. Men leaned out and aimed. I screamed, ran, and dropped my purse and briefcase. A window shattered. Another gun appeared and fired several times in rapid succession. Men moved in slow motion, it seemed. The youngest man jumped a body and two men dropped. I crawled for a moment or two. Wind caught an umbrella and deposited it two doors down.
Chance pulled a second handgun from under his raincoat and fired. I joined him behind a Lincoln. „You okay?‰ he asked as his hand rested on my arm.
He reacted so coolly. I nodded. „My God.‰
„Stay down.‰
He rose and fired. The first shot smashed a taillight. He rose and fired again. The second shot shattered the back window. The carload of attackers stopped. Brazenly, the driver glared at Chance. „You&Mac226;re gonna die,‰ the gunman said.
„They&Mac226;re coming back.‰ I prayed Chance could kill them.
„Just stay down,‰ he said.
The gunman rose, braced his arm, and took aim. The first bullet seared through my coat and my back. The pain stopped all extraneous movement. I prayed I wasn&Mac226;t paralyzed or worse. Did the bullet hit a vital organ? The next bullet hit Chance. I screamed. How many other people were shot? I couldn&Mac226;t raise my head.
The sky whirled when the real estate lady rushed outside, knelt at my side. „I&Mac226;ve called the police,‰ she said.
„Please. Go back&Mac247;„ She was struck in the head and collapsed beside me. „Linda.‰ The car sped away and blackness overcome my world.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Medicine, antiseptic and roses scented the hospital room when I awoke from unconsciousness. „Oh, damn, damn.‰ My mid-section hurt.
A nurse brought in another bouquet. „I see you&Mac226;re waking up.‰
„I remember it.‰
„You&Mac226;re mighty lucky.‰
„Look at the beautiful flowers. Oh, wow. Who brought those?‰
The nurse read the tags. „This one&Mac226;s from Maggie. She turned the second card around and peered through her tri-focals. „This one&Mac226;s from George. You know him?‰
„Yes. My ex.‰
„And this one is from&Mac247;„ she turned the card over then over again. „It doesn&Mac226;t say.‰
„Why wouldn&Mac226;t it say?‰
„Strange.‰
„It&Mac226;s from me,‰ said Shiela as she entered the room. „I came all the way out here from Los Angeles too.‰
With great pain I reached out from under the covers for my best friend and hugged her best I could. „I&Mac226;m so glad you came.‰
„How did you get in the middle of a gang war?‰
„I just woke up. I don&Mac247;„
„You did. Chance LaRossa was hit too.‰ Shiela paused. „It&Mac226;s all over the news. Three people were killed. You were lucky.‰
„Oh Shiela. The real estate lady&Mac247;Linda. Oh no.„
„I&Mac226;m so sorry. She didn&Mac226;t&Mac247;„
My eyes stung. „Shiela hand me a Kleenex.‰
Sheila yanked a tissue from the box. „Here Sweetie. I sent her family flowers and signed the card for you.‰
I squeezed her hand. „You&Mac226;re so thoughtful.‰
The next day, my ex-husband entered the room and stood behind „Shiela. „Do you mind if we are alone.‰
„Shiela can stay with me anytime she wants, George.‰
„Never mind,‰ Shiela said. „I have to catch a flight back right away.‰ She smooched my forehead, picked up her purse. „You&Mac226;re gonna be okay, I can see.‰
„I&Mac226;ll call you when I get home.‰ She waved and disappeared through the door.
George found a chair and dragged it around to the edge of the bed. „I&Mac226;ve been pretty worried.‰
„I&Mac226;m fine.‰ I turned my head away and looked outside into the bright blue sky. I didn&Mac226;t especially want to look at him and I certainly didn&Mac226;t want to offer any conversation.‰
„Aren&Mac226;t you going to talk to me?‰
„There&Mac226;s not too much to say.‰
„I came out here to help.‰
„Go on back to California.‰
„You&Mac226;re never going to forgive me, are you?‰
„I don&Mac226;t want to talk anymore.‰
Later, a tall blonde-haired man entered the room, waved a badge, and questioned me. „I believe you&Mac226;re safe. The shooters were only after Chance and his men.‰
„I feel so awful about the real estate lady.‰
„It was a sorrowful day for her family. And our town. Murder and shoot-outs don&Mac226;t happen here.‰
„I hope you catch all who were involved.‰
„I do to. But if you hear anything, just let me know. All right?‰ He showed me a card and placed it on the bedside table. „Keep this handy.‰ On his way out he smiled and waved.
Two days passed before George grew antsy. „I&Mac226;d better go back to California. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.‰ He leaned to kiss me goodbye.
„No.‰
„It&Mac226;s just a goodbye kiss, for cryin&Mac226; out loud.‰
„I don&Mac226;t know.‰
His tears flowed. „I&Mac226;m sorry. If I would get on my knees and beg your forgiveness wouldn&Mac226;t you give me one more chance.‰
„I&Mac226;ve heard this before, George. No.‰
Minutes after George left, I picked up the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and read an article on the bottom of page six. „Chance LaRossa Leaves Hospital.‰ Marion Memorial Hospital released him yesterday and he traveled back to New York. I mistakenly figured I&Mac226;d never see him again.
July 2nd
The house was Gothic Victorian and was built in 1890 atop a hill. A view of Devil's Kitchen Lake filled the sitting parlor window. Huge oaks and maples grew all around the yard. I was extremely lucky to find the house. I remodeled it to become a delightful Bed and Breakfast for summer vacationers.
It was hot. I wished the air conditioning repairman would arrive. I put the final coat of enamel on the baseboards in one of the upstairs bedrooms before I washed out the brushes. Tired I showered and changed into a cool pair of shorts and white shirt. With a glass of ice tea and a cordless phone, I trekked across the yard, stepped up into the gazebo and sat in the swing. Lightning bugs blinked and fishing boats headed for shore. Kids squealing voices echoed and someone's barbecued supper smelled delicious.
The swing creaked as though I completely forgot the shooting.
A car approached from the bottom of the hill. Tires smacked on the sticky oiled roads. It took me by surprise because very few cars entered Willow Brook Road, especially during the evening hours. The car snaked within view. A black car. I gasped. A limo. It was a long limo similar to the one I saw the day of the shooting. It traveled toward the huge house which was for sale. The Queen Anne home was located a mile up the slow rising hill where the road dead-ended.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I couldn't sleep. Several times during the night I awoke because remembrances of the shooting haunted me. Visions sent me scurrying to the kitchen sink for a cool glass of water. Besides, it was too hot to breathe, let alone sleep.
In desperation, wearing my gauzy nightgown, I grabbed a quilt, a pillow and went outside and made a comfortable bed in the hammock. I loved sleeping under the bespeckled heavens. I sprayed some insect repellant on my body and bullfrogs&Mac226; croaking lulled me to sleep.
At eight o'clock, I wrote a note to the air conditioner repairman and taped it to the door. I couldn't wile away the whole summer waiting for them to show up. Surely, he'd know to go ahead and fix whatever was necessary.
I dressed in a red polo shirt, a pair of shorts and Reeboks. I slipped on a pair Oakleys and power-walked up the hill with the full intentions of nosing around, if only from the road. I would be the first to admit, men who owned long, black limousines intrigued me.
It was Independence Day eve and the radio weather forecaster promised a hot and humid holiday season. Boaters towing water skiers were already out on the lake. I quickened my pace feeling refreshed and exhilarated.
Birds twittered and twig hopped as I gaped overhead. The tree branches and underbrush grew thick at the halfway point. Straight overhead, bluish white chunks of sky peeked through. The Shawnee National Forest was so beautiful. A squirrel held a bit of food to his mouth and cabbage butterflies played tag along the shoulder.
Three quarters of the way a man who looked much like Chance LaRossa approached. I couldn't be sure the walker was the infamous gangster. He walked the opposite direction, wearing shorts, a USN gray T-shirt, sunglasses. I picked up my pace we met he gave me a good solid nod and "Good morning."
I said, "Good morning," and we continued. After we passed, I turned back and looked at his rear. I found him staring my way. I gasped and turned around. If it were Chance, he didn't recognize me. Besides. What else could I have said? Oh hi. I'm the woman who got shot right before you--you remember--when we crouched behind the limos? Hm-um. No thanks, I thought. A friendly good morning was sufficient.
The for sale sign disappeared. The house was off the market and two limos parked a couple hundred feet up the driveway. Two olive-skinned men dressed in Bermuda shorts stood near the entrance. "How are you?" one of the men asked.
"Fine. You?"
"Good." I kept walking to the end of the road, turned and walked back toward my house. I passed the men again at the gate to the estate. I remembered the dead real estate lady's words telling her that Chance searched for a house as a holiday getaway.
I walked faster as I headed down hill.
I walked back to the house, showered, ate a piece of toast and busied myself planting flowers in the front planters for the rest of the day. Barely I noticed the limousines going up and down the road. Perhaps the owner walked all the way into town and called the chauffeur to pick him up, because I didn't see him again. By five oclock I went inside and peeked in the refrigerator and wished I could crawl inside to cool off and sleep in there.
Once again I picked up the handset and dialed the only heating and refrigeration man in twenty-five miles and his familiar answering machine told me to leave a message after the beep.
Aggravated, I showered, dressed in a white below the knee evening dress, heels and white hat. I looked down. Did the dress show too much cleavage? I didn&Mac226;t want to look tawdry I pulled up on the front. Heck with it, I thought. I&Mac226;ll just go eat and come home. No one would look at the neckline of my dress anyway.
I retrieved my Visa Gold card and my purse and went out into the garage. I climbed into the Lexus, pressed the garage door down button, backed out and sped toward Barrington's Eatery in Carbondale.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
„Did you have reservations?‰
„No.‰
The maitre de asked, "How many, please?"
„Just one.‰
„There will be a slight wait.‰
„Thank you. How long, sir?‰
„Fifteen minutes.‰
So I sat on a padded bench and waited with other hungry guests. The limo pulled up outside and parked. The chauffeur clmbed from the car, walked around, opened the back passenger door. Chance rose.
A lady next to me said, „Honey, aint that the gangster?‰
I gasped quietly. Chance entered the glass door in as folks glimpsed him quickly and looked away. He looked my way as he approached the maitre de. I looked down the meetings embarrassed me.
His eyes studied my expression. "No way. You're not the lady--no way--"
"The shooting?"
"Yeah."
"Yep. It sure was."
"Are you alone here, tonight?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Damn, I wish I didn't have this meeting." He crouched before me, enveloped my hand and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of my hand. I blushed violently but didn't pull away.
My heart thumped wildly. "You on vacation?"
"Yeah. Except for this one meeting."
"You taken? As far as a man goes?" he asked intently.
"No." I answered honestly. I sure didn't consider my ex-husband my man. "I think you bought the house right down from mine.I'm not sure."
"Was that you this morning?"
"Walking?"
"Yeah." He rose and peered at three approaching men.
I gazed at the men also. "It was."
"Now ain't that somethin'? We didn't even stop to speak."
A maitre de entered the foyer. "Mr. LaRossa you're private room is ready."
Three Italian-American men entered the restaurant and joined Chance. I said, "Chance, I guess you need to get goin' then."
"I guess so." He shook hands with his fellow business men, turned and winked my way. I barely managed to exude an air of normalcy. Just before he disappeared, he said, "See you soon." He blew me a kiss.
"Oh wow," the lady next to me said. I smiled and looked away as others whispered about Chance's appearance in the restuarant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I drove home and took the third shower of the day. I pulled a Nora Roberts novel from the bookshelf and read. I shut off the lights and turned on the television set. For awhile I watched Jay Leno.
Twelve-thirty I went into the bedroom swung the doors to the balcony wide open and tried to sleep. God, the house was still hot and I cursed the air conditioning man.
I gathered my quilt and pillow and headed out the back door. Lying in the hammock I gazed up at the full moon amazed at the shapes and squiggles in its make-up and wondered about all the other stars.
Then I started thinking about him: Chance. Was he as bad as news commentators said he was? I heard a car. The limo climbed the hill. I wondered if he thought about me in the meeting and if he killed people and buried them in cornfields. If I ever talked to him again, I promised myself to ask a few questions. Hopefully he would be honest. Then again, if he did kill folks maybe I shouldn't speak to him at all. What if he tried to kill me? My overactive imagination worked again. Something blocked my view of the moon.
"I didn't get to ask you for a date. I saw you in the moonlight."
I gasped. I tried to sit up. "Oh?" I recognized his voice and I glanced at the stopped limo. "When?"
"Could you go to Vegas with me two or three of days?"
I almost choked. "Las Vegas as in Nevada?" Was he serious?
"In my jet. I promise I'll have you back just like I said. How's that?"
He sat on the ground by the hammock. "Well?"
"I don't know you, too well. I mean--I do know you on the news, but--"
He laughed hard. "We'll have separate rooms."
"Really?"
All mom and dad's training flew out the window. "Yes. It would be fun. Sure."
We talked ten minutes or so longer and he left. When I was sure he was out of earshot I shouted, "Oh my God!" I finally went berserk.
end of part one
by Karen Snyder
Part One
April 22
An unfolding series of events caught my attention as I peered through the window. With headlights on, two late model, black Limousines turned into the parking lot. The windshield wipers arced, slapped, and swished away rain every couple of seconds. Mesmerized, I blinked.
The lady real estate agent across the desk smiled at my curiosity as I returned my attention to the unique get together. "Ohmygod," I said. Rarely a pair limos arrived simultaneously, anywhere.
„I know.‰ She gathered and arranged papers. „Guess I'm getting used to it.‰
A formally dressed chauffeur rose, opened an umbrella, walked around and opened the door for both cars. Of course I could not hear any conversations through the thick glass even though their mouths moved. I only heard the agent across the mahogany desk. "And the payment is ready?"
"The money's in my new account and can be transferred immediately." My vision returned to one of the men who spoke into a cell phone inches from the window. „Can they not see through this glass?‰
„That side is tinted.‰
„There's five of them.‰
"This goes on a lot," the lady said. "I'm sorry for the interruption."
"Very interesting." I paused. "Don't worry about it."
"Um-hm. I've thought about moving."
"Who are they?" I asked and momentarily returned my gaze to her.
She mouthed, "I'm not sure, but I've heard rumors."
I looked back outside and lowered my voice even though she and I were the only people in the room. "Mafia?" I asked incredulously.
"I don't know," she said. "But--" her eyebrows expressively pushed upward into what I considered an answer in the affirmative.
Six well-dressed Italian-American men emerged, and converged under the eaves of the next-door, unmarked office. Less than fifty feet away, they stood and quietly talked.
The lady's lip curved. "A business meeting."
"Really?" My brow crinkled. "Wow." I glanced their way and down at the papers.
The tallest most able-bodied man looked my way. I was almost sure he didn't see me. He wore new style business, black, summer-suit. His demeanor and appearance seemed familiar, but I didn't know him.
Surely he wasn't from Southern Illinois, but from a megaopolis such as New York or Miami. Local people didn't dress up too often. His hair was cut just so-so, his body was built of solid muscle, and he could pass as a model for a men's fashion magazine. In what seemed to be a nervous gesture, he raised his left hand to remove his reading glasses. In the process, a Rolex watch and multi-jeweled ring caught my attention. The other men smoked, but he chewed gum. He was much younger than his associates. I guessed his age to be thirty-five years old: a year or so older than myself.
Reality returned when the agent said, "And all you have to do is sign here and here and the house is yours."
After unzipping a briefcase side pocket, I grasped a Cross pen, and signed at the flagged X's. While waiting, the agent rested her chin in her fingertips and her eyes also roamed outside.
"Out of curiosity, why are they standing out there?" I asked as I penned in my full name, Jetta Luanne Carlson.
"They're conducting business." She nodded and smiled. „The intrigue of danger. Right?‰
"Yeah." I stopped a moment, turned the page and scribbled my first name on the line. Five new questions formed, but I remained silent. I figured she was too busy to listen to nonsense about strange next-door business meetings. How frivolous of me to become so caught up in the realm of gangsters.
I signed my name, as the real estate agent tore the sheets apart. "It&Mac226;s a private business meeting, I guess."
"Oh, okay." I paused. "Outside in the rain?" I couldn't help but smile.
"I guess. You know. Spying and stuff does go on in the gangster world. I act like I never see what's happening."
"It&Mac226;s probably for the best you ignore it all. But you know something?‰ I tapped the pen to the desktop. „One of those men looks familiar. Who is he?"
"He's Chance LaRossa--New York."
"Oh man. The one on CNN all the time?"
"Sure." She handed me copies of the papers. "Him."
"He's not the one the New York Prosecutor is trying to--"
"Yes. 'Fraid so."
I wondered what he was doing in Illinois, but was afraid to ask more questions about such dangerous topics.
„He&Mac226;s thinking about buying a summer home here?‰
„Oh?‰
After I signed the papers, we shook hands. "Thank you very much. It's been nice doing business with you." She gave me the keys and I turned toward the door.
„It was nice meeting you Jetta.‰
„And you too, Linda,‰ I said. Thank you," I said. I picked up my purse, slipped on the gray raincoat, pushed the glass door open, and went outside. Rain pitter-pattered on the walks, so I pushed the umbrella's metal ring until it thumped open.
Thank goodness. The house deal ended. As my high heels clicked through the puddles, I whiffed the freshness of ozone. My black Gold Edition Lexus was a hundred feet north. I walked toward it relieved because I was free to move in to my new home.
I neared the group of gangsters and almost felt their eyes upon my person, so I moved quickly. I glimpsed Chance&Mac226;s gaze and peered down.
A red and blue mailbox zinged. I screamed. „My God.‰ I looked around. The metal-to-metal sound zinged again. Sparks shot upward off a pole. Men shouted and scurried for cover. Gun shots! A bullet whistled by my head. „Someone&Mac226;s trying to kill us.‰ I could be killed any second, I thought. In all directions, I glanced. Where should I hide? A car sped toward me. Men leaned out and aimed. I screamed, ran, and dropped my purse and briefcase. A window shattered. Another gun appeared and fired several times in rapid succession. Men moved in slow motion, it seemed. The youngest man jumped a body and two men dropped. I crawled for a moment or two. Wind caught an umbrella and deposited it two doors down.
Chance pulled a second handgun from under his raincoat and fired. I joined him behind a Lincoln. „You okay?‰ he asked as his hand rested on my arm.
He reacted so coolly. I nodded. „My God.‰
„Stay down.‰
He rose and fired. The first shot smashed a taillight. He rose and fired again. The second shot shattered the back window. The carload of attackers stopped. Brazenly, the driver glared at Chance. „You&Mac226;re gonna die,‰ the gunman said.
„They&Mac226;re coming back.‰ I prayed Chance could kill them.
„Just stay down,‰ he said.
The gunman rose, braced his arm, and took aim. The first bullet seared through my coat and my back. The pain stopped all extraneous movement. I prayed I wasn&Mac226;t paralyzed or worse. Did the bullet hit a vital organ? The next bullet hit Chance. I screamed. How many other people were shot? I couldn&Mac226;t raise my head.
The sky whirled when the real estate lady rushed outside, knelt at my side. „I&Mac226;ve called the police,‰ she said.
„Please. Go back&Mac247;„ She was struck in the head and collapsed beside me. „Linda.‰ The car sped away and blackness overcome my world.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Medicine, antiseptic and roses scented the hospital room when I awoke from unconsciousness. „Oh, damn, damn.‰ My mid-section hurt.
A nurse brought in another bouquet. „I see you&Mac226;re waking up.‰
„I remember it.‰
„You&Mac226;re mighty lucky.‰
„Look at the beautiful flowers. Oh, wow. Who brought those?‰
The nurse read the tags. „This one&Mac226;s from Maggie. She turned the second card around and peered through her tri-focals. „This one&Mac226;s from George. You know him?‰
„Yes. My ex.‰
„And this one is from&Mac247;„ she turned the card over then over again. „It doesn&Mac226;t say.‰
„Why wouldn&Mac226;t it say?‰
„Strange.‰
„It&Mac226;s from me,‰ said Shiela as she entered the room. „I came all the way out here from Los Angeles too.‰
With great pain I reached out from under the covers for my best friend and hugged her best I could. „I&Mac226;m so glad you came.‰
„How did you get in the middle of a gang war?‰
„I just woke up. I don&Mac247;„
„You did. Chance LaRossa was hit too.‰ Shiela paused. „It&Mac226;s all over the news. Three people were killed. You were lucky.‰
„Oh Shiela. The real estate lady&Mac247;Linda. Oh no.„
„I&Mac226;m so sorry. She didn&Mac226;t&Mac247;„
My eyes stung. „Shiela hand me a Kleenex.‰
Sheila yanked a tissue from the box. „Here Sweetie. I sent her family flowers and signed the card for you.‰
I squeezed her hand. „You&Mac226;re so thoughtful.‰
The next day, my ex-husband entered the room and stood behind „Shiela. „Do you mind if we are alone.‰
„Shiela can stay with me anytime she wants, George.‰
„Never mind,‰ Shiela said. „I have to catch a flight back right away.‰ She smooched my forehead, picked up her purse. „You&Mac226;re gonna be okay, I can see.‰
„I&Mac226;ll call you when I get home.‰ She waved and disappeared through the door.
George found a chair and dragged it around to the edge of the bed. „I&Mac226;ve been pretty worried.‰
„I&Mac226;m fine.‰ I turned my head away and looked outside into the bright blue sky. I didn&Mac226;t especially want to look at him and I certainly didn&Mac226;t want to offer any conversation.‰
„Aren&Mac226;t you going to talk to me?‰
„There&Mac226;s not too much to say.‰
„I came out here to help.‰
„Go on back to California.‰
„You&Mac226;re never going to forgive me, are you?‰
„I don&Mac226;t want to talk anymore.‰
Later, a tall blonde-haired man entered the room, waved a badge, and questioned me. „I believe you&Mac226;re safe. The shooters were only after Chance and his men.‰
„I feel so awful about the real estate lady.‰
„It was a sorrowful day for her family. And our town. Murder and shoot-outs don&Mac226;t happen here.‰
„I hope you catch all who were involved.‰
„I do to. But if you hear anything, just let me know. All right?‰ He showed me a card and placed it on the bedside table. „Keep this handy.‰ On his way out he smiled and waved.
Two days passed before George grew antsy. „I&Mac226;d better go back to California. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.‰ He leaned to kiss me goodbye.
„No.‰
„It&Mac226;s just a goodbye kiss, for cryin&Mac226; out loud.‰
„I don&Mac226;t know.‰
His tears flowed. „I&Mac226;m sorry. If I would get on my knees and beg your forgiveness wouldn&Mac226;t you give me one more chance.‰
„I&Mac226;ve heard this before, George. No.‰
Minutes after George left, I picked up the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and read an article on the bottom of page six. „Chance LaRossa Leaves Hospital.‰ Marion Memorial Hospital released him yesterday and he traveled back to New York. I mistakenly figured I&Mac226;d never see him again.
July 2nd
The house was Gothic Victorian and was built in 1890 atop a hill. A view of Devil's Kitchen Lake filled the sitting parlor window. Huge oaks and maples grew all around the yard. I was extremely lucky to find the house. I remodeled it to become a delightful Bed and Breakfast for summer vacationers.
It was hot. I wished the air conditioning repairman would arrive. I put the final coat of enamel on the baseboards in one of the upstairs bedrooms before I washed out the brushes. Tired I showered and changed into a cool pair of shorts and white shirt. With a glass of ice tea and a cordless phone, I trekked across the yard, stepped up into the gazebo and sat in the swing. Lightning bugs blinked and fishing boats headed for shore. Kids squealing voices echoed and someone's barbecued supper smelled delicious.
The swing creaked as though I completely forgot the shooting.
A car approached from the bottom of the hill. Tires smacked on the sticky oiled roads. It took me by surprise because very few cars entered Willow Brook Road, especially during the evening hours. The car snaked within view. A black car. I gasped. A limo. It was a long limo similar to the one I saw the day of the shooting. It traveled toward the huge house which was for sale. The Queen Anne home was located a mile up the slow rising hill where the road dead-ended.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I couldn't sleep. Several times during the night I awoke because remembrances of the shooting haunted me. Visions sent me scurrying to the kitchen sink for a cool glass of water. Besides, it was too hot to breathe, let alone sleep.
In desperation, wearing my gauzy nightgown, I grabbed a quilt, a pillow and went outside and made a comfortable bed in the hammock. I loved sleeping under the bespeckled heavens. I sprayed some insect repellant on my body and bullfrogs&Mac226; croaking lulled me to sleep.
At eight o'clock, I wrote a note to the air conditioner repairman and taped it to the door. I couldn't wile away the whole summer waiting for them to show up. Surely, he'd know to go ahead and fix whatever was necessary.
I dressed in a red polo shirt, a pair of shorts and Reeboks. I slipped on a pair Oakleys and power-walked up the hill with the full intentions of nosing around, if only from the road. I would be the first to admit, men who owned long, black limousines intrigued me.
It was Independence Day eve and the radio weather forecaster promised a hot and humid holiday season. Boaters towing water skiers were already out on the lake. I quickened my pace feeling refreshed and exhilarated.
Birds twittered and twig hopped as I gaped overhead. The tree branches and underbrush grew thick at the halfway point. Straight overhead, bluish white chunks of sky peeked through. The Shawnee National Forest was so beautiful. A squirrel held a bit of food to his mouth and cabbage butterflies played tag along the shoulder.
Three quarters of the way a man who looked much like Chance LaRossa approached. I couldn't be sure the walker was the infamous gangster. He walked the opposite direction, wearing shorts, a USN gray T-shirt, sunglasses. I picked up my pace we met he gave me a good solid nod and "Good morning."
I said, "Good morning," and we continued. After we passed, I turned back and looked at his rear. I found him staring my way. I gasped and turned around. If it were Chance, he didn't recognize me. Besides. What else could I have said? Oh hi. I'm the woman who got shot right before you--you remember--when we crouched behind the limos? Hm-um. No thanks, I thought. A friendly good morning was sufficient.
The for sale sign disappeared. The house was off the market and two limos parked a couple hundred feet up the driveway. Two olive-skinned men dressed in Bermuda shorts stood near the entrance. "How are you?" one of the men asked.
"Fine. You?"
"Good." I kept walking to the end of the road, turned and walked back toward my house. I passed the men again at the gate to the estate. I remembered the dead real estate lady's words telling her that Chance searched for a house as a holiday getaway.
I walked faster as I headed down hill.
I walked back to the house, showered, ate a piece of toast and busied myself planting flowers in the front planters for the rest of the day. Barely I noticed the limousines going up and down the road. Perhaps the owner walked all the way into town and called the chauffeur to pick him up, because I didn't see him again. By five oclock I went inside and peeked in the refrigerator and wished I could crawl inside to cool off and sleep in there.
Once again I picked up the handset and dialed the only heating and refrigeration man in twenty-five miles and his familiar answering machine told me to leave a message after the beep.
Aggravated, I showered, dressed in a white below the knee evening dress, heels and white hat. I looked down. Did the dress show too much cleavage? I didn&Mac226;t want to look tawdry I pulled up on the front. Heck with it, I thought. I&Mac226;ll just go eat and come home. No one would look at the neckline of my dress anyway.
I retrieved my Visa Gold card and my purse and went out into the garage. I climbed into the Lexus, pressed the garage door down button, backed out and sped toward Barrington's Eatery in Carbondale.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
„Did you have reservations?‰
„No.‰
The maitre de asked, "How many, please?"
„Just one.‰
„There will be a slight wait.‰
„Thank you. How long, sir?‰
„Fifteen minutes.‰
So I sat on a padded bench and waited with other hungry guests. The limo pulled up outside and parked. The chauffeur clmbed from the car, walked around, opened the back passenger door. Chance rose.
A lady next to me said, „Honey, aint that the gangster?‰
I gasped quietly. Chance entered the glass door in as folks glimpsed him quickly and looked away. He looked my way as he approached the maitre de. I looked down the meetings embarrassed me.
His eyes studied my expression. "No way. You're not the lady--no way--"
"The shooting?"
"Yeah."
"Yep. It sure was."
"Are you alone here, tonight?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Damn, I wish I didn't have this meeting." He crouched before me, enveloped my hand and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of my hand. I blushed violently but didn't pull away.
My heart thumped wildly. "You on vacation?"
"Yeah. Except for this one meeting."
"You taken? As far as a man goes?" he asked intently.
"No." I answered honestly. I sure didn't consider my ex-husband my man. "I think you bought the house right down from mine.I'm not sure."
"Was that you this morning?"
"Walking?"
"Yeah." He rose and peered at three approaching men.
I gazed at the men also. "It was."
"Now ain't that somethin'? We didn't even stop to speak."
A maitre de entered the foyer. "Mr. LaRossa you're private room is ready."
Three Italian-American men entered the restaurant and joined Chance. I said, "Chance, I guess you need to get goin' then."
"I guess so." He shook hands with his fellow business men, turned and winked my way. I barely managed to exude an air of normalcy. Just before he disappeared, he said, "See you soon." He blew me a kiss.
"Oh wow," the lady next to me said. I smiled and looked away as others whispered about Chance's appearance in the restuarant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I drove home and took the third shower of the day. I pulled a Nora Roberts novel from the bookshelf and read. I shut off the lights and turned on the television set. For awhile I watched Jay Leno.
Twelve-thirty I went into the bedroom swung the doors to the balcony wide open and tried to sleep. God, the house was still hot and I cursed the air conditioning man.
I gathered my quilt and pillow and headed out the back door. Lying in the hammock I gazed up at the full moon amazed at the shapes and squiggles in its make-up and wondered about all the other stars.
Then I started thinking about him: Chance. Was he as bad as news commentators said he was? I heard a car. The limo climbed the hill. I wondered if he thought about me in the meeting and if he killed people and buried them in cornfields. If I ever talked to him again, I promised myself to ask a few questions. Hopefully he would be honest. Then again, if he did kill folks maybe I shouldn't speak to him at all. What if he tried to kill me? My overactive imagination worked again. Something blocked my view of the moon.
"I didn't get to ask you for a date. I saw you in the moonlight."
I gasped. I tried to sit up. "Oh?" I recognized his voice and I glanced at the stopped limo. "When?"
"Could you go to Vegas with me two or three of days?"
I almost choked. "Las Vegas as in Nevada?" Was he serious?
"In my jet. I promise I'll have you back just like I said. How's that?"
He sat on the ground by the hammock. "Well?"
"I don't know you, too well. I mean--I do know you on the news, but--"
He laughed hard. "We'll have separate rooms."
"Really?"
All mom and dad's training flew out the window. "Yes. It would be fun. Sure."
We talked ten minutes or so longer and he left. When I was sure he was out of earshot I shouted, "Oh my God!" I finally went berserk.
end of part one
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