Shedrow, p.18
Shedrow, page 18
“I guess we all did, in a way. Chet, Janice and I all knew about it. But it was her brother Wayne who actually master-minded the thing. He was the one who obtained the virus from the university lab.”
Hill shook his head and tightened his lips. “Then he decides to go to the authorities and tell it all. He is one crazy bastard. He’s in police custody right now in Kentucky.”
“So what good will killing me do?” Gianni said.
“Janice suddenly wanted to confess and tell you everything. So if you didn’t already know too much, I fear you would before too long. I’ve already lost the insurance money—Wayne made sure of that. If there’s fraud then there’s no payment. But I can’t go to jail. I’m used to a much more comfortable lifestyle, you see.”
“And you expect Janice to take the fall for you? She’ll go to jail and let you run free?”
“Of course I’m sure. She adores me. She’ll do anything for me.” Hill’s face was beaming, as though he really believed what he was saying.
“So she knows you’re planning to kill me?” Gianni said.
“Oh, no. I don’t think she’d go quite that far. Like I said, she was going to spill her guts out to you, and while I can trust her to protect me, I don’t believe I can say the same of you.”
Gianni raised his voice, “You won’t get away with this, you bastard.”
“Sure I will. The mob is already after you, Anthony. So this will just look like the next in a string of mob slayings related to that damn stallion.”
“Tell me one more thing,” Gianni said. “Tell me who actually killed Chiefly Endeavor?”
“I told you that we all had a hand in it. But if you mean, who in fact physically swabbed the virus into the horse’s nose?”
“Who did it?”
“It was some degenerate that lives at the dump, the landfill in Midway. They called him Zoom.”
“How could some hillbilly that lived at the dump get past security and into the stallion area at Midway?”
“They apparently paid Zoom enough money—I doubt it took much. Zoom and the guard at Midway were lovers, you see. I expect the guard would have let him go right to the owner’s mansion if he had wanted to.”
Hill paused and smiled, that same smug expression of self-love once again evident. “Any crime involves some combination of a few basic motives, right? Money, love…or just plain sex, and revenge.”
“That poor guard ended up slaughtered,” Gianni said.
“Yes, he did. I didn’t have anything to do with that one, though.”
Gianni looked down at the ground, his face expressionless.
Hill pointed the gun and said, “Time is getting short, my friend.”
“Drop it, Brad.” It was a woman’s voice speaking now, coming from the foyer behind him.
Hill turned his head slightly, still pointing the gun at Gianni. Behind him was Janice Gianni, clutching a pistol with two hands, her hands shaking slightly.
“I’m afraid I can’t drop it,” Hill said.
“It’s gone too far, Brad. Drop it.”
Gianni surveyed the two. Hill continued to point the gun at Gianni’s head while taking furtive glances over his shoulder at the gun Janice was pointing at him.
“There is no way I’m dropping this, Janice,” Hill said.
Janice took two steps forward then fired two shots at point blank range. One bullet hole opened at the nape of his neck, another through the back of his head. Hill fell to the ground instantly.
Gianni bent over and felt for a carotid pulse. There was none. He then looked back towards Janice. She was down on her knees and she had the barrel of the gun inside her mouth.
“No!” he screamed. There was a third shot and Gianni saw the flesh around her mouth and nose suddenly torn open. Blood poured from her mouth and there were fragments of teeth scattered about the shredded flesh. Her eyes remained open as she fell over to one side.
With tears in his eyes, Gianni instinctively positioned her to open the airway. He could see her chest rise and fall, her breathing still spontaneous. She had a palpable carotid pulse, though she had lapsed into unconsciousness. He dialed 911 from his cell phone and ordered an ambulance to 25 Hollow Ridge Road in Armonk.
Gianni looked down at her bloody visage. She needed to be intubated soon, before the swelling could compromise her airway, and she needed to be supported with intravenous fluids. But like others he had seen who put a gun to their mouth, she would survive. She destroyed a large part of her upper face but missed the brain and would avoid the lethal injury she had presumably wanted. Had the gun been angled slightly differently, she would not be alive.
He could hear the siren of the approaching ambulance. Gianni thought of the team he would call in to operate and of the sequence of operations Janice would require. Were the victim not his wife, he would most likely be part of the team himself.
Two paramedics ran through the front door pushing a stretcher. One of them carried a bright orange emergency kit. Janice was barely conscious and her breathing had become somewhat more erratic.
“I’m a physician,” Gianni said. “The man is dead. The woman— my wife—needs to be intubated. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
One of the paramedics sat on the floor directly at Janice’s head and straddled her with one leg on each side. The second medic handed him a laryngoscope, which he skillfully inserted from his seated position on the floor. In seconds, an endotracheal tube was in place, the cuff inflated and the tube secured with an anchoring device. An Ambu bag was used to deliver several rescue breaths, then she continued breathing on her own.
Another siren blared, and lights from a police cruiser streaked through the living room window. As the paramedics moved Janice from the floor onto the stretcher, two troopers entered the living room. Gianni started to follow the stretcher to the ambulance when one of the troopers intervened.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” the trooper said. “One of us can transport you to the hospital shortly, but we’ll need to take your statement first.”
Chapter 48
Montauk, NY – Six months later
As Gianni headed east on Old Montauk Highway at the eastern tip of Long Island, the road in the distance seemed to disappear straight over the dunes and into the ocean. The deep blue hue of the water contrasted with the lush greens of the dune pines, the beach grasses, and the yellow and white wildflowers. Gianni slowed the Porsche and looked over at Highet. He had just collected him from the train station in Amagansett. The two had not seen each other in over eight months. Gianni thought back to his first trip out east and expected that his friend was perhaps just as moved by the vista off to his right.
“They call it The End,” Gianni said. “It’s the end of Long Island, the easternmost point in the state. A bird flying due east from here would end up somewhere in Spain, I expect. How in the world did your daughter end up here?”
“She came here years ago with a friend from college and fell in love with the place. From what I’ve seen so far, I can understand why.”
“She’s here for the whole summer?” Gianni asked.
“Unless she gets tired of the horses and the routine at Rita’s Stable. She needed a break from Manhattan. Said she’ll do some writing, and I expect she can get a job with another literary agent when she’s ready.”
“How is she doing, Steven?”
“Fine, really. We spent a good deal of time together right after the shooting. We went to a quiet place just over the border in West Virginia.”
“That was when I was frantically calling you on my way back from St. Lucia.”
Highet said, “Sorry, no cell service where we were. I really just needed to get her away, to someplace quiet. She suffered a terrible ordeal that day in Lexington, but she’s a strong, smart girl. She went for a little counseling and stopped after just a few sessions. Said she didn’t need it any longer and I expect she knows what she needs and what she doesn’t.”
The narrow road dipped and curved, and Gianni continued the slow pace, allowing Highet to enjoy the passing seascapes. “You’ll love the town,” Gianni said. “None of the glitz of the Hamptons. It’s still unspoiled, really.”
Highet looked back and forth, on both sides of the road at the magnificent homes overlooking the ocean. “How’s Janice?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Gianni said. “Four surgeries, two separate admissions for alcohol rehab, and now another recent relapse that we’re not quite sure how to handle. Random drug and alcohol tests are part of her parole agreement. If she doesn’t stay clean, she could still be looking at some jail time.”
“You expect to stay with her?” Highet asked.
“I still don’t know. It’s so ironic, really. Here I am, the plastic and reconstructive surgeon. A good portion of my patients are women about the same age as Janice. Some are stunningly beautiful, but they see some minor flaw that they want corrected. Janice had just about gotten to that point right before the shooting. She worried about wrinkles and talked incessantly about looking old.”
Gianni was silent for a moment, then continued. “Someone once said that our fragile bubble of comfort and privilege can be broken in an instant. Hers certainly was. She’s so horribly deformed now that even the best surgeons in the country can only do so much. After four reconstructive procedures, the best we can hope for is that she will look something less than frightening, so that maybe little children won’t stare. So that adults will stop sneaking glances when they think we can’t see them.”
“Then you actually plan to stay together?”
“I said I don’t know. Funny thing, she’s become a much nicer person since she lost her physical beauty. She would actually like to do something with her life, and I expect she will if she can stay sober.”
“You must have at least thought about divorce,” Highet asked.
“Steven, I’ve thought about divorce for the last four years. I’m still thinking about it now. But I won’t divorce her because she’s deformed. I’ll divorce her because I’m not sure I ever really loved her. But regardless, I’ll support her in every way possible. She deserves that.”
“Does she?” Highet said. “She had an affair with a supposed best friend. She engaged in a plot to kill Chiefly Endeavor. And she’s an alcoholic.”
“Yes, and she also saved my life,” Gianni said. “She shot the man who was about to kill me. Should I ignore that?”
“No, I suppose not,” Highet said. “And I never quite understood— why wasn’t she already in police custody on that night?”
“Basically, the authorities in Lexington were all so focused on the Pawlek murder that they took their sweet time acting on the details of the hermit’s confession. And I’m sure they initially wrote him off as a total nut.”
“Did you ever talk about the reason why Janice plotted to kill Chiefly Endeavor?” Highet asked.
“I never did. There’s incredible irony there too. I spent the better part of a year totally obsessed with that horse, looking for the elusive killer, and one of them shared my bed every night. That still haunts me.”
“There’s another thing I never understood. When Brad came to your house that night, he knew all about the hermit and the confession, but none of that was news yet. How did he know what the hermit had told the authorities?”
“The hermit wasn’t taking any chances. He had led Millie, the waitress in Clay City, to believe that she was the only one who had a copy of that fateful envelope, the one that detailed his confession. But he had actually sent another one to his sister exactly two days earlier. Janice naturally shared all the details with Brad, and that set him in motion. Meanwhile, Janice was having her change of heart, and trying to figure out a way to break all of it to me.”
“Has Janice seen her brother?” Highet asked.
“She went down to visit him around the time of the sentencing. That man endured a lot. Chet Pawlek swindled him out of his life savings and his one chance at saving his wife. After she died waiting for the lung operation, he became totally consumed by revenge. His vengeance had such far-reaching consequences and in the end, accomplished nothing. I suppose I should detest the man, but I don’t.”
“That trial was big news in Lexington,” Highet said. “He found himself before a pretty sympathetic judge. Two years felony criminal mischief, another two for hard insurance fraud, and I doubt he’ll even serve it all.”
Gianni said, “I’m sure it didn’t hurt that some of his testimony helped bring down the two Catroni brothers. Any news on the young Pawlek kid?”
“They’re still arguing on the venue for the trial. Personally, I don’t think it matters where they try him. He has one of the best defense lawyers in the state, and he should find himself before a sympathetic jury no matter where it is. There won’t be many tears shed over the death of Chester Pawlek.”
“And I saw that Frunkle finally had to resign,” Gianni said.
“Oh yes, our illustrious senator from Kentucky—Teflon Ted. Well this one finally stuck, and there should be enough to put him away for a long time.”
They drove through the town of Montauk. There were no chain stores, no buildings more than two stories tall, no stop lights. Gianni stopped at a crosswalk near the main intersection. A young couple held a toddler between them, one hand each. The child looked back across the street at a candy store, trying without success to pull in the opposite direction. They drove through town, then headed north towards the harbor and the Montauk Yacht Club, where they would stay for the weekend.
“Rita’s Stable is right there,” Gianni said as they made the left turn. “Carla is planning on dinner with us, right? I know a fantastic place in the harbor area, Dave’s Grill.”
“Sounds good,” Highet said. “Tonight I can leave the dinner arrangements to you and tomorrow, Carla is our guide. She has three special horses picked out for us and a trail that leads down to the beach.”
“I’m glad we could make this little retreat together,” Gianni said.
Chapter 49
It rained in torrents for most of that night, cutting deep ruts into the dirt road leading to Rita’s Stable. The rain had stopped and the mid-morning sky was now a cloudless blue. Outside the barn, Carla was busy saddling three horses: one chestnut, another dark brown, and one roan with hints of blue.
“Morning,” Carla said. “Great dinner last night. Thanks again, Dr. Gianni. Now, are you guys ready?”
“Of course,” Highet said.
“The roan filly is a little high strung,” Carla said. “That’s Peggy, she’s mine.”
“How about the other two?” Gianni said.
“The bigger brown gelding is Dagwood, and the chestnut with the lighter mane is Blondie. You guys can take your pick. Dagwood and Peggy are both purebred quarter horses, and Blondie is part thoroughbred.”
Highet looked at Gianni and said, “You pick.”
“I’ll ride Blondie,” Gianni said.
Carla positioned a mounting block next to Blondie. Gianni used it to boost himself into the saddle, and Carla gave her father a leg up onto Dagwood; then she put her left foot in the stirrup of her own saddle and was still swinging herself over the barrel of the horse when Peggy started to trot off. Carla slowed Peggy and led the way to a trail that weaved through some shadbushes and pine trees, then crossed Montauk Highway and headed towards the beach.
When they reached the beach, Gianni and Highet moved up and rode astride the roan filly. As they rode further east, the gentle dunes rose higher, gradually changing to high cliffs of rock and sand. Rising above them were mansions overlooking the ocean. Some were close enough to be visible from the beach below.
“Who was it that said there’s nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse?” Highet asked.
“Ronald Reagan,” Gianni said.
Highet was silent for awhile then said, “If money were no object, what would you do each and every day?”
“I thought about that a lot when I was in St. Lucia,” Gianni said. “I’d probably spend more time volunteering, doing missionary work. Overall, I’d treat more of the patients who most need my services, the real disfiguring maladies, cleft patients and the like. I’d spend less time with the ones who just want bigger breasts, higher cheekbones, or fewer wrinkles.”
“How about the horses?” Highet asked. “Do you still plan to have some thoroughbreds?”
“Thought a lot about that too,” Gianni said. “For now, I plan to adopt one or two retired thoroughbreds. The kind who tried their hearts out and just never quite made it at the track. I’ll board them on a farm near my home, give them a good home. I have my first one lined up already. Stu Duncker called me about this beautiful chestnut filly. She’s very well-bred but they’ve dropped her through the claiming ranks, and now she has sore suspensories and still hasn’t placed in a race. Stu told me ‘She’s no good as a race horse.’ To which I replied, ‘That’s okay, she’ll be good for me’”
“They’re no different than people,” Highet said. “The haves and the have-nots. Are you ever sorry you got into racing?”
“Not at all. Obviously I’d like to be able to turn back the clock and rewrite the chapter on Chiefly Endeavor. But regrets for my involvement? No. I’ve met some wonderful people, Stu Duncker for one, and many others. I’ll get back in at some point. Once you experience that adrenalin rush of your horse closing in on the finish line…it’s a bit addictive, isn’t it?”
Carla raised herself up in the stirrups and began a slow canter up the beach, leaving Highet and Gianni behind.
“You know what I do regret, Steven?” He raised his head, pointing towards Carla. “I regret that I never had the chance to see a child blossom into a beautiful young adult. She’s a gem.”
Highet looked up at the high cliffs and the mansions. “What makes you think you can’t still have a son or a daughter?”
“I’m almost fifty. Janice never wanted kids, and that was probably a blessing in disguise. I’m not sure she could ever be the motherly type.”
