Chapter 5

“Anthony, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Gina told her brother. She watched as he packed his suitcase. Fifteen minutes earlier, he had tossed it on the bed after announcing he was leaving the boarding house.

“There’s nothing for me to do up here. I’m about to go crazy from boredom.” He continued to pack.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it?” Gina asked.

“What woman?”

“The Coulson woman, I saw how you looked at her. Please, don’t try starting anything with her. I thought you came up here to lay low for a while, until things settle down in Long Island. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

“You worry too much, Gina. I can take care of myself.” He closed his suitcase and lifted it off the bed. After kissing his sister’s cheek, he headed out the door.

Gina stood on her front porch and watched as Anthony got into his car and drove off.

“Is he gone?” Nick asked, walking into the living room. Gina continued to stand at the open door.

“Why didn’t you make him stay?” Gina asked.

“Your brother has never listened to me. And frankly, I’m glad he’s gone.” Nick walked over to the door and closed it. Gina turned and looked at her husband.

“He’s my brother,” she said, tears in her eyes.

“And if he wasn’t your brother I never would have put up with him for as long as I have. I don’t like him around my family. He makes me nervous. Your brother is a dangerous man, you know that.”

“He loves me,” Gina whispered, tears swimming in her large brown eyes. Nick pulled her into his arms and held her.

“I love you too, Gina. I want you safe.” He kissed the top of her head.

Cliffwood Motel was built the same year as Coulson House. Unlike the stately mansion, whose primary function was to impress potential property owners and show the world Randall Coulson was committed to the ambitious development project, speed and price dictated the motel’s construction. Time had not been kind to the inferior structure, which looked twice its actual age.

For Wally Keller, Cliffwood Motel’s dilapidated state made it possible for him to afford the purchase of the rundown commercial property. Had the motel been located in an isolated area or on the outskirts of town, it would not have suited his needs. After all, he had two sons to consider. Two sons he was raising on his own.

He had worked in construction since he was a teenager so when renovating the motel, he could do most of the labor himself. Becoming a business owner had never been his dream, but after his wife’s death two years earlier, he found it increasingly difficult to be both a mother and father to his boys while working outside the home in his construction job.

It was his sister who had showed him the ad for the motel. He had never been to the Coulson area, but she had and she believed it would be perfect for her brother and nephews. He had a little inheritance money from his parent’s estate, which enabled him to purchase the motel. It would serve as both income property and home for his family.

Located on the end of Main Street in the original section of downtown Coulson, the motel was walking distance to most of the shops, stores, and restaurants in that section of town.

Since moving to Coulson during the summer, he had worked primarily on the living quarters he shared with his sons. It included a small living room, kitchen, two large bedrooms, one bathroom, and a connecting office where hotel guests could register. A long counter separated the living quarters from the office, enabling him to be with his sons at night while taking care of guests if necessary.

He intended to start renovating the hotel rooms—all twenty of them—by November. Over the summer, he had managed to rent the rooms to vacationing fishermen and hunters, who weren’t put off by the primitive quarters. He was still getting fishermen on the weekends, but it was typically dead during the week.

Wally Keller was surprised when the well-dressed man walked into his office asking to rent a room for an indefinite amount of time. “How long did you say you want a room for?” Wally wondered if he had heard the man correctly.

“A month, maybe longer.”

Wally eyed the stranger. He could use the business, but the man didn’t look like one of his typical guests. When the stranger had first walked in the office door, Wally thought he was going to ask for directions. He looked like a man dressed for a night on the town—just not this town.

“So what brings you to Coulson?” Wally asked as he opened the reservation book.

“I’m checking into a couple of business opportunities in the area. I’ve been staying with my sister up at Clement Falls, and it’s starting to get cold up there. I’m not a fan of the snow.”

“I understand it can snow up in Clement Falls in November. But they say our winters in Coulson are mild. Even sunny. Hope that’s true.”

“So, you’re new in town?”

“I just bought this place—this past June. It’s my first season. But I’ll warn you, the rooms are a little primitive. I would love your business, but I’m not sure you’ll be happy here. Would you like to check out the room before you register?”

“No, that’s fine. Your rates look reasonable, and I might be around here for a while before I get things settled. No reason to spend a fortune when I don’t intend to spend much time in the room. I’d like the one on the end—room ten, if it’s free.”

“Sure. Can I have your name, please.”

“Marino. Anthony Marino.”

The first thing Antony did when he entered the small motel room was to open the window and let in the fresh air. He doubted the room had been rented for a while, because it smelled musty. He wasn’t surprised to find it clean, despite its need for a facelift. The guy at the liquor store told him Cliffwood Motel was run down but clean.

He chose this room because of its location to the street, and the private walkway that led to its door. One could inconspicuously gain access to the walkway by ducking through the trees behind the public restrooms on Main Street. When the time came for Vera Coulson to meet him at the motel, she could park her car by any of the shops on Main Street, and simply walk to the restrooms—and disappear.

Anthony noticed the intriguing access the previous week when taking his sister shopping in the center of town. He went to use the restroom and while coming out of the building heard what sounded like children playing. He wondered briefly if there was some school in the area. Stepping closer to the trees behind the restrooms, he pushed the limbs to one side to have a look. It appeared to be the back of a motel. A long concrete walkway ran along the building. On the far end of the walkway, two boys were tossing a football back and forth. They were the apparent source of the noise. The door closest to him wore a faded number 10. When driving down Main Street later that afternoon, he noticed the street curved to the left. Instead of going north, he was now going west. Cliffwood Motel faced this section of Main Street.

Already thinking of getting out of Clement Falls, he had asked the guy at a liquor store he frequented about the motel. It wasn’t until his encounter with Vera did he give the motel another thought.

Tossing his keys on the dresser, he flopped down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. His hands, their fingers laced together, pillowed the back of his head. Without sitting up, he kicked off his shoes and shoved them off the bed using one foot. They fell with a loud thud to the wood floor.

If things worked out as planned, he should be able to get out of Coulson before spring. Perhaps going back to Long Island wasn’t a good idea but maybe L.A. or Chicago. Until last night, the thought of being stuck in the area for even another week seemed intolerable, yet now he had a new diversion to keep him interested.

He had checked around. The Coulson’s had money all right. It seemed they were fairly clean, but the old man may have done some business with the moonshiners back during prohibition. But hell, who hadn’t? Kennedy was running for president and his old man was nothing but a moonshiner himself. Of course, running for office wasn’t the same as actually getting elected. He didn’t care what his sister Gina thought; there was no way some Irish-Catholic boy had a chance to get into the White House.

From what he had learned, old man Coulson and his son thought they were some big shots in this little shit resort town. Big fish, little pond, he thought. Men like that imagined they had power, but Anthony knew they were too afraid to grasp real power. Vera Coulson was the reigning princess. It would be fun to fuck the princess of Coulson.

It was obvious to him she wasn’t getting what she needed at home. She hadn’t even put up a fuss when he had kissed her. Remembering the priceless expression on her face stroked his ego. He was fairly confident she was still thinking of him—maybe even fantasizing about him. It gave him a heady rush of power. Smiling, he moved his hands from behind his head and unbuttoned his slacks. Shifting on the bed to get comfortable and to loosen the fit of his pants, he pulled the zipper down. Shoving his right hand down the front of his slacks, he took hold of his already growing erection.

He would seduce her first; make her feel special. Women liked that, especially when their men were ignoring them. He wouldn’t be surprised if her husband had something on the side. Hell, he would be surprised if he didn’t.

After he reeled her in, Anthony wanted her lust, not her love. He also wanted her fear. Lust and fear, not love and fear, he thought. A woman in love was unpredictable, the love was her driving force, and that held no interest for him. But lust and fear, those were two powerful driving forces he could manipulate. When he was finished with Vera Coulson, she would be the addict and he the heroin.