Splitting Nines (1)
A revenge mystery with twists.
Copyright © 2014 by Ron Gannon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
PROLOGUE
The "Blizzard of '78" was one of the worst in Rhode Island's history. As temperatures rose lethal hazards ensued: falling icicles. The weight of a long chunk of ice whistling downward from a skyscraper, like a spear, can kill you.
Ruth, an elderly woman, exited the Outlet Department Store in downtown Providence. As she stepped onto the damp sidewalk a sizable drop of water hit the top of her head. Her impetuous reaction to the distraction was to look upward at the points of frozen chunks of ice projectiles hanging from the roof. Another drop splashed on her forehead. Right away she moved close to the street by water from melting snow flowing in the gutter due to the 46 degrees outside temperature. Ruth shivered at the loud crashing noise made by a large icicle shattering on the sidewalk twenty feet away. Fragments flew in every direction.
Established in 1891, the Outlet stocked furniture, house wares, clothing, cosmetics, books and other stuff. Inside a pink, heart-shaped jewelry box lay on a clearance table. Sandra Paine sauntered over and carefully picked it up. She examined it closely.
"Isn't this pretty, Cookie?" A smile appeared on her beautiful face as Sandra turned the decorative cover toward her little five-year-old treasure.
A girl with stunning azure blue eyes gazed at the conversation piece, nodding. "Uh-huh!"
Sandra opened the top of the jewelry box. The passionate instrumental music 'Somewhere My Love' played. With a delightful smile, Sandra slowly shut her eyes, getting pleasure out of listening to the film score. “Ahhhh! I adore that song.”
“Zhivago,” said Tom, holding his daughter's tiny hand, “our first date, remember?”
“Of course, you wanted to see ‘Thunderball’. Not much of a romantic, but you were so handsome,” said Sandra, touching Tom's cheek, “a young Sean Connery.”
“And you...,” Tom searched for a name, “...whatsherface, you know, blonde hair, green eyes, USO show in Nam, Bob Hope’s friend...”
“Joey Heatherton...Jayne Mansfield?”
“No, I think her name's Phyllis Diller.”
“The comedian not known for her beauty?” Sandra gave Tom a love tap on the arm. That just kidding smile doesn’t excuse put-down humor.” After shutting the lid she shoved the jewelry box in front of Tom's smiling face. Thinking of the popular insult comic Don Rickles she said, “Okay, Don Dimples, it’s half off - buy it.”
Tom took the heart shaped box, placing it against his chest. "My heart is yours, forever. It doesn't matter who you look like."
"Tell Flo we look like Phyllis Diller. She might hit you with her broom. Go! We'll be waiting in the little girl's section."
Tom headed toward the nearest cashier.
Sandra knelled, bending and holding her daughter's hands. "Do you want to visit Auntie Flo?”
The little blonde peered up at her mom and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Outside, Ruth walked with deliberation up to a police officer. She pointed in direction of the Outlet. "You ought to put up warning signs or do something before someone gets hurt."
Inside, Sandra and Tom, carrying Cookie, headed for the exit.
“By the way, you do have a fantastic looking sister.” Tom winked at Sandra. "Her face takes my breath away." He opened the large glass door.
Sandra smirked. "I'll be sure to tell her." She exited the store, stepped onto the sidewalk, turned, took a few steps and stopped, waiting for her loved ones.
Tom, with Cookie on his right forearm and her arm around his neck, caught up with Sandra just as a pointed icicle struck her head.
Tiny pieces of ice and blood splashed onto the Tom's and Cookie's faces.
Cookie screeched.
Sandra’s legs gave out. As blood gushed out of the top of her head like a geyser, she landed hard against the wet sidewalk.
The jewelry box bounced out of the bag. The lid flipped open. ‘Somewhere my Love’ played.
Wearing a bright red Superman cape, six-year-old David raced around on freshly mowed grass, head down and arms stretched out over his head. Fantasizing he was flying like the man in a movie his mother had taken him to. At the sound of a cat’s meow he stopped and squinted up at the large oak in the far corner of his parents' property by the bay. Nine feet over his head an entirely white cat perched on a limb, staring down and crying for help.
“Don’t worry, Whitey, Superboy will save you.” Dave climbed up to the branch the cat was on. Initially, he attempted to coax the snow white feline to move closer to him. "Come here, Whitey." He beckoned with a finger while gripping onto the branch with a hand.
Whitey held its position. Its deep royal blue eyes glared at the small child.
Noticing the cat's reluctance to comply to his demand, Dave crawled on his hands and knees toward the pussy. Everytime he got just withing reach, Whitey slowly backed away toward the end of the limb. When the cat was unable to move back any farther, Dave reached his tiny hand within striking distance. The frightened feline scratched it. The claw marks barely broke the skin but inflicted enough pain to startle Dave. He lost his balance and plummeted to the ground, breaking his right arm. A bone pierced the skin just above his wrist. He screamed out in excruciating pain.
Dave slept in a private hospital room, his arm in a tight cast. His eyes opened and his head turned toward his father who had just entered the room.
“Does it still hurt?” asked Ray Disenzo.
“Yes!”
Ray examined Dave’s fingers: three of them were greenish-black. His eyes widened as he clinched his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. “You're out of here!” Ray lifted Dave and carried him out of the room.
Ray with Dave in his arms marched down the hallway of the hospital. A few nurses and a patient in a wheelchair watched, confused. An irritated nurse came out from behind the reception desk. She approached Ray and pointed at Dave’s room advising him take him back. Ray ignored her as he stormed by. His face was beet red when he yelled back to tell Dr. Kennedy he would be seeing him, shortly. They left the hospital.
Dr. Kennedy grinned when Ray asked if he was a blood relative to JFK because he resembled the ex-president. “No relation, but I do hear that quite often.”
“Incompetent asshole - do you hear that a lot?” asked Ray, sitting in front of the doctor’s desk. “I paid top dollar for the best and get Helen Keller and Dr. Magoo.”
Startled, Kennedy squirmed in his seat, glancing around as if he was looking for help. “How can I help you?”
“The gangrene was noticeable. Weren’t you examining him?”
“My assistant was suppose to. She has been severely reprimanded. And the hospital and my insurance company’s agent are going to...co-operate with you, fully. I insisted on a substantial monthly payment for the rest of his life.”
“Do I look like Monte Hall?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. The only fucking deal I’ll give you is pick window one, two or three. If my wife wasn’t in Europe, your face would be on a milk carton by now. She’s very vindictive.”
Dr. Kennedy got out of his seat and headed for the door
.
Ray sprang out of his chair and jumped in front of him. “You heard of me, haven’t you?”
Frightened, the doctor nodded. According to newspaper articles, Ray Disenzo was the most feared reputed crime boss in New England. Although never convicted of any serious crimes, many believed he had personally killed two people and ordered the assassination of nine.
Ray grabbed him by the throat. “You’re lucky the staff at Roger Williams saved his hand. Practice your voodoo somewhere else. I want you and your retarded assistant out of New England before noon tomorrow. Got that?" He released the quack.
Dr. Kennedy nodded.
"If you go to the police, your family will suffer. That's a promise. I'm a man of my word. Ask around.”
Three fingers were surgically removed from Dave's hand. Ray had one of his hired thugs catch the cat responsible and hung it by its neck from the oak tree. It swung there for several days. Nobody complained. Not even the owners who lived two houses away. They knew better. Ray Disenzo was very vindictive. Many believed he was crazy since childhood.