Chapter 14
Fred took his convertible top down for his ride back to Sarasota. He wasn’t sure the visit had been helpful but at least he had two new descriptions and recent photos that might help him locate Donna. As he merged from the east to west I-10 to I-75 he floored his accelerator, seamlessly blending into the southbound traffic. He maintained seventy miles an hour all the way back home. The warm humid Florida wind shot pleasantly through his hair, and a few persistent bugs found a final domicile on his teeth. He temporarily forgot about Donna and her threat to him and Maureen. He was experiencing the incomparable joy of being in an open convertible on a balmy day. He passed by the rolling soft grassy contours and dales of Ocala; he watched graceful horses galloping carefree through green meadows contained by a seemingly endless flow of white fences. With the car’s top down, he had an unobstructed view of the day’s azure sky and its floating cotton clouds above. He was gradually beginning to have a promising love affair with his used Miata, and he needed to harness the moment. Bonds in life are hard to come by, and one must take advantage of them when they appear.
* * *
While Fred was on his way back to Sarasota, in an RV park near Sarasota, Donna was engaged in energetic sex on a park trailer’s well-worn sofa. Across from her, seated on an equally dilapidated love seat, was a securely bound Dr. Anderson. Jane Doe sat uncomfortably next to him. Donna had no compunction about murder, and she had none about modesty or free love either. Her male partner was in the process of removing Donna’s bra when Jane cried out, “How long do I have to watch this shit, and how much longer are we be going to be trapped in this rat hole? I never got my puppy or my gold badge. You promised, Donna.”
Donna had little time for fools and to Donna, Jane Doe was in all respects a fool. Donna forcefully pushed the heavily panting lover off of her.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“I have to take care of something—hold your horses, Polish.”
Donna walked to a pull- down bar with a single drawer nestled at the bottom of it. She said to Dr. Anderson, “Do you think I’m a good shot?”
He said nothing.
She said, “I asked you once, I won’t ask again, do you think I’m a good shot?”
He said, “Yes . . . I don’t know . . . who the hell cares?”
Donna opened the bottom drawer and grabbed her 45 caliber revolver. “Well, since you don’t give a damn, and I really am a good shot, let me prove it to you.” She aimed her pistol in the direction of the doctor and fired.
The bullet missed the doctor, but it found its directed mark in the middle of Jane’s head.
Her lover jumped up and almost fell over; his pants were still down at his feet. “What in God’s name did you do?” he yelled.
“Just getting rid of complaining excess baggage,” she responded.
“But, for God’s sake, she helped you escape, she was your best friend in prison; how the hell could you have done that?”
“Polish, listen, her value was over. Ever since she helped me get out of prison, she’s done nothing but complain. Besides, the cops know what she looks like; so if she was captured she would have turned me in.”
“No way would Jane have turned you in; she adored you.”
“She wouldn’t have turned me in on purpose, but the cops would be able get anything out of her that they wanted; she was so stupid that if brains were gas, she wouldn’t have enough in her to power an ant moped around a marble. She deserved to die.”
In unison both the doctor and Donna’s lover said, “Jesus!”
The doctor said, “If I operate on you and re-introduce that damned device, I know that you would get rid of me soon afterwards as well. What would be my value in your keeping me alive? Once Jane’s usefulness to you was over you got rid of her.”
Donna rebutted, “No, you’re wrong; after you implant that baby in me, there will be no reason to kill you. Because with its power, I will become unstoppable and neither you nor anyone else will be a threat to me.”
“But you were stopped before.”
The expression on Donna’s face soured. “That’s only because a dumb cop got lucky and had expert assistance. That won’t happen the next time.”
Donna’s lover interrupted the conversation, “Now what in hell do we do with the body?” pointing to a lifeless Jane Doe.
“No problem, we’ll get a shovel and take her further out route 70 towards Arcadia. There’s a deserted farm about ten miles out with no houses near by. I found out that the place has been in litigation for two years; it makes for a great quiet grave site. By the way, did you get the computer equipment I asked for?”
“Yes, I still don’t know why you need it; but I put it in the bedroom.”
Donna’s unenthusiastic lovemaking had ended, and not too soon for her. She said, “I have to go somewhere on an errand, I’ll buy a shovel on the way.”
“Donna, it’s dangerous for you to go out in public. Why don’t you let me go instead?”
“It’s personal, Polish.”
“Why do you continue to call me Polish, when you know damn well that’s not my name?”
“You fool, it’s because of your deep refinement and sophistication.”
In truth Donna called him Polish simply because his shoes were always shiny. Her real name for him was highly insulting; and for the moment she needed him too much to lose him with an accurate but disparaging description.
He reflected on Donna’s comment. I did go to the opera once, he thought. Of course I fell asleep, and I couldn’t understand in this great country why they sang in a foreign language; but I did go which is more than I can say about most people. Actually, Polish ain’t a bad handle for me. Polish smiled in contentment.
Polish realized that, most likely, Donna had delayed in going after Fred because she was worried someone could identify her if she ventured out of the trailer park too often. After all, her photograph had been broadcast on virtually every news channel both day and night. He had constructed a plan which would take care of Fred once and for all. Donna would be finally pleased.
* * *
Donna’s destination was going to be a secret from Polish. No way am I going to let this fool know what I hid over four years ago, she thought. I wouldn’t even trust him with a hundred dollars, let alone a million. It’s my rightful inheritance, she thought; or at least it’s what I earned staying with that bitch of an aunt for so long.