Act of Necessity Ch. 07-08

I left the theatre just before eight, slipping out between the late arrivals for the movie. No one seemed to take any notice of me and the first part of my plan was in place. My next stop was the Ferraro home in South Burnaby. I had approximately two hours to complete my plan, so I couldn't afford to stall or have second thoughts at this point. I pulled on a Halloween mask, picked up the bear spray, tucked the golf club up into my right sleeve and got out of the car. I had parked it one door down, almost right in front of Aldo's neighbour. Sucking in my breath and getting out of the car, I quietly closed the door and walked up to his front door. It took every ounce of courage I had to press the doorbell button, but I did press it. Within seconds I heard the thump of his footsteps as he approached the door. I held the bear spray in front of me and when he opened the door, I blasted him in the face with a good five second shot.

He reeled back in reaction to the stinging pain in his eyes and I pushed him further into his living room. I quickly pushed the front door shut, turning off the porch light. Aldo was still reeling, now blind from the spray. I let the golf club slip down my sleeve into my hand. I hit him in the knee as hard as I could and he collapsed instantly onto the floor. Between the bear spray and the pain from my blow, he was in agony and writhing on the floor. I quickly closed the drapes to make sure we weren't seen by any passersby.

I was surprised Also wasn't screaming loudly, either in pain or in anger, or both. We was letting out little squeals as he tried to deal with my two-pronged attack. I wasn't about to give him a chance to make a ruckus. I hit him in the back of the head with the golf club and he went both limp and silent. I didn't know if I had killed him or not, but it didn't really matter. The rest of my plan would assure that he would be dead soon.

I dragged his body to the back door. I was amazed that there was no blood of any consequence. There was no sign of blood on his pants where I had struck his knee and very little visible on his head, although there was a sizeable gash showing through his long hair where the club had hit. I went back into the living room, opened the drapes again after turning off the TV and the lights, then righted a small table that had been knocked over when Aldo fell backwards.

Dragging a two hundred pound man as a dead weight was not easy. I left him on the back steps while I rushed out to my car and drove it up the driveway to the back of his pickup. It took every bit of my strength to manhandle him into my trunk. I'd lined the trunk with an old tarp from my basement, keeping any blood from seeping into the trunk's carpet.

I checked for a pulse twice, but couldn't detect one. I was no doctor or medical person, so I may not have done it properly, but it looked like Mr. Aldo Ferraro was no longer with us. I felt amazingly detached from that fact. I had murdered a man in cold blood and didn't have an ounce of remorse ... yet. I washed off the blade of the golf club under the garden tap, then stuck it under the front passenger seat. I backed carefully and quietly out of the driveway, and drove slowly off toward my next destination.

The flats east of the Queensborough Bridge on the North Arm of the Fraser River were largely deserted. A single narrow road led toward the river and when I arrived, I was relieved that there was no sign of anyone else in the area. There were signs of people dumping their waste and junk here and I thought that would help cover my tracks.

Again, it took all my remaining strength to drag Aldo's body from the trunk, across the gravel road and down off the dyke to the river. I rolled him into the river and watched as his body floated slowly out of sight into the darkness.

He might end up a few yards from where I dumped him or he might end up out in Georgia Strait. The question was, would anyone be able to determine where he had been dumped. I was hoping they would not. It was a risk, of course, but one I had chosen to take. I'd done something so unspeakable that I could hardly believe it myself. I had murdered a man in cold blood. No matter how I justified it, I had killed him.

Chapter 8 Waiting for the Other Shoe

I was shaking like a leaf in the wind when I climbed back into my car. I couldn't move and yet I knew I had to get out of there before someone came along and saw me. I forced myself to start the car, turn around, and head back toward Marine Drive. I made a quick diversion to Fraserview Golf Course and after bending the golf club over my knee, I tossed it over the fence into the rough alongside a fairway. I got back into the car and got home just after nine-thirty. I folded the tarp after determining there was no evidence of blood on it and stowed it in the rafters in the garage. It had taken me less time to complete my mission than I calculated. I had one more thing to do before I could call it a night.

"Hi, Francesca, how are you, love?"

"I'm fine. Just finishing up studying for my finance class. How are you?"

"Good. I played hooky tonight and went to a movie. They had a James Bond movie on that I wanted to see."

"Oh ... that's a surprise," she laughed. "You guessed I wouldn't want to go with you. I thought you hated Roger Moore?"

"I do. This was a Sean Connery movie that wasn't part of the franchise. Much more like the books, but it still had all the old villains."

"Well, as much as I like Sean Connery, I'm not a big fan of the killing and mayhem in those movies."

"I know, otherwise I would have invited you to go with me."

"So, how are you doing with your studies?" she asked. "Pretty good, I think. I've got a couple of tests to write in the next week or so, but nothing I'm worried about. I just thought a night off wouldn't hurt me. I did want to hear your voice, though. That always makes me feel good."

"And I always like to hear your voice too, lover. Will you be coming here on Friday?"

"You know it. Darlene has a date with her new boyfriend, so we'll have the place to ourselves again."

"Gee, I wonder what we can do ... just the two of us," she giggled.

"I'm sure we'll think of something. I'll see you Friday about seven-thirty, okay?"

"I'll be waiting for you. Goodnight, lover."

I hung up the phone and let out my breath. I tried hard to sound normal and since Francesca could almost always tell if I wasn't my usual self, I must have done a good job of fooling her. That allowed me to relax a bit.

I didn't go to bed at my usual time. I opened a beer and sat in front of the TV. Don't ask me what was on. I wasn't watching it. I was dreading tomorrow and the days that might follow. Sooner or later someone would report Aldo missing. Sooner or later his body would be found. Sooner or later the police would want to talk to me. I almost hoped it would be sooner. I was sure the waiting would be very difficult.

The next day was as bad as Tuesday. I couldn't concentrate and a couple of my people asked me if I was alright. I assured them I was and said it was just a stomach upset. They laughed, hoping it wasn't something I ate here. I assured them it wasn't.

No one came to see me that day or the next day. I scanned the papers and watched the local TV news to see if there was any report of a body being found, but there was nothing. It was Friday before I had a call. It was from the Oakridge police station.

"It's Constable Harcourt, Mr. Larson. We're following up on a missing person report. Your name came up due to a report of harassment and threats by a Mr. Aldo Ferraro. Can you tell me if you've had any contact with him in the last few days?"

I'd been waiting for this call and knew what I wanted to say.

"No ... nothing at all, thank goodness. He's threatened both me and my girlfriend more than once. I won't be disappointed if I never hear from him again."

"When was the last time you saw or heard from him?" the constable asked.

"I can't remember the date, but I reported it to your office and two officers came down and dealt with Ferraro and two of his friends. They were standing out in front of my restaurant, trying to intimidate me."

"And that was the last time you saw or heard from Aldo Ferraro?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, then. That's all I need for now. We'll be in touch if anything else comes up."

That went about as I expected it would, except it was merely a phone call and a brief conversation. They didn't ask where I was on Tuesday evening, so I guessed they hadn't really pinned down when he went missing. So far, so good.

I kept watching the news and the newspaper for any indication that the body had been found or that the police were actively looking for Aldo. Nothing. Over the next two weeks I began to relax a bit and think maybe that the longer it took them to find Aldo, the more difficult would be to track back to when and where he was disposed of. Time was on my side.

~*~

In the meantime, the planning for Sam and Gio's wedding was well underway and I received my airline tickets to Rome. We would be leaving the first Wednesday in May. I would be travelling with Francesca, Eduardo and Mama Rosina. Fredo and his family would be with Pietro and his family. They would be leaving a few days earlier to get the children settled. All of us would fly Air Canada to Toronto, then Alitalia to Rome. The train to Perugia would bring us close to the home of the Mariani family. Fredo and Pietro would pick us up and transport us and our luggage the rest of the way.

I'd spent some time looking up the area where we were going and it was fascinating. The little town of Magione was located near the beautiful Lake Trasimeno. I recognized the name as the same as Eduardo's wine importing company. The hilly land was heavily planted. Not just grape vines, but olive trees dotted the landscape near the estate vineyards. Francesca promised me our ten days would be full and we would have plenty of time to sightsee.

~*~

It was mid-April, almost four weeks after I'd taken care of Aldo, that I had another call from the police. This time, they asked if I would come to the station for an interview. As far as I knew, the body hadn't been found, but that was only based on my scanning the newspaper and watching the TV news. I was pretty sure any found body would be reported. It didn't happen that often.

I arrived at the Oakridge police station and met with Corporal Rawlings. We went into an interview room and I was offered coffee or water. I chose water.

"Mr. Larson, can you tell us where you were on the evening of March fourteenth this year?"

"No, I can't. I have no idea what day that was."

"It was a Wednesday."

"If it was my usual Wednesday, then I went to work, left just after three and went home. Took a shower, changed my clothes, maybe did some shopping, then came back home. I had my dinner with Darlene, my sister, then did my correspondence studies. Why do you want to know?"

"As best we can determine, that was the day that Aldo Ferraro disappeared. He hasn't been seen or heard from since. We have no suspects other than possibly ... you."

"Me? Why me?"

"The problems you had with Ferraro. The threats and violent encounters that brought about his conviction. His friends say he was obsessed with getting you out of his way so he could get to Francesca Mariani. All that points to you having a reason for him to be out of the picture."

"Yeah ... I suppose it does. But I had nothing to do with his disappearance. Maybe he took off on his own. Maybe someone else wants him gone. Me ... I'm in no position to hassle Aldo Ferraro. I've had one physical encounter with him already, and that was one too many."

"You have no recollection of being out anywhere on Wednesday, March fourteenth?"

"None. You can check with my sister. She keep a fairly detailed diary, so maybe she might remember. But Monday through Thursday are my usual study nights. I don't normally go out those nights."

"But you have gone out on those nights before," he tried again.

"Yeah. I might need to get something at the grocery store. I went to a movie one night back around the time you were mentioning."

"What movie was that?"

"It was one of the James Bond movies. The Rialto had a James Bond week on and I went to see the last one that Sean Connery made."

"Do you remember which night that was?"

"No ... not really. It was 'Never Say Never Again.' It was only on once that week, so I'm sure the theatre can tell you when it was shown."

"We'll check that out."

"So tell me, am I a suspect in the disappearance of Ferraro?" I asked, showing a little attitude.

"You are the only lead we have to his disappearance. He didn't exactly have a lot of friends, but not many enemies ... at least ... no one besides you that he threatened."

"Well, based on that, it sounds like I'd better get a lawyer to protect my rights," I said, curious about how they'd react to that.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" the officer asked.

"Do you really think I had anything to do with his disappearance?"

He looked at me for a long time before he spoke.

"I don't see any evidence, but I have to follow up all leads. You are about the only one we have."

"So, that would be guilt by lack of evidence, then?" I suggested with a cynical smile.

"Like I said," the officer repeated, "we have to follow up all leads."

"Sure. Am I free to go now?" I asked, trying to act a bit surly.

"You can go. Just don't leave the area without letting us know," he warned.

"Well, I can tell you now that I will be gone from here from May second to May thirteen."

"Where will you be?"

"In Magione, Italy. My girlfriend's brother is getting married and I'll be travelling with her family."

"What the girlfriends name?" he asked, not willing to end the interrogation.

"Francesca Mariani. Her parents are Eduardo and Rosina Mariani."

I saw an eyebrow rise in recognition. "You know Eduardo Mariani?"

"Yes, very well. He will be my future father-in-law someday."

"So it is his daughter that Ferraro was obsessed with?"

"That's right," I said, getting a little more irritated. "Look Corporal Rawlings, Francesca Mariani and I reported all this at the time of Ferraro's assault. You should have all this in your records. The last time I filed a complaint, I got the distinct impression you couldn't be bothered to investigate. Now you're all over me like I'm some kind of criminal."

"Relax, were just checking, Mr. Larson. Aldo Ferraro is a missing person and we're obligated to investigate."

"Too bad you didn't feel obligated to protect me," I snapped.

I got a dirty look from the officer before, "Okay, Mr. Larson. You can go. We'll be in touch if we need to talk to you again."

"I'll let you know the name of my lawyer," I said as I rose, noticing the pissed-off look Corporal Rawlings showed.

As I walked to my car, I wondered where they had come up with the date. It was wrong, but I wasn't about to correct them. Did that mean they hadn't found the body and were going by when Aldo was a no-show? I knew from reading stories about bodies that had been in the water for some time that it made the determination of how long they had been there very difficult. Certainly it wouldn't be within a day. No, the only conclusion I could come to was that they had yet to find Aldo's body and that was all good news for me.

~*~

This time I let Francesca, Eduardo and the rest of the family know about my interview.

"As far as I can tell, I seem to be the only person they have been associating with his disappearance. Their thinking seems to be that since Aldo threatened me, it only stands to reason I would want to do away with him. Nothing could be further from the truth. I wanted to be as far away from him as I could get. One trip to the hospital was enough for me."

"Our avvocato will assist you if they call again, Dallas," Eduardo assured me.

"Thank you, Sir. Let's hope it isn't necessary."

"I agree," Eduardo said. "What do you suppose happened to Aldo Ferraro?"

I caught the slightest hint of a smile from him.

"Don't have a clue," I lied.

And that was the end of that subject.

~*~

It was the end of April when the body of Aldo Ferraro was found underneath a pier in Richmond, near the mouth of the river. The decomposition of the body was such that is was difficult for the coroner to determine cause of death. He didn't drown, and there was evidence of a depression in his skull, the cause likely being a blow from a blunt object. The coroner's report, issued just before we left for Italy, listed the demise of Aldo Ferraro, age twenty-five, as homicide by person or persons unknown.

I had no further contact with the police and I was relieved. For as much as I could tell, I had gotten away with killing the man. While I wasn't proud of my act, I was satisfied that I had been justified in ridding the world of him while protecting myself and Francesca. I wouldn't be losing any more sleep over my taking matters into my own hands.

To Be Concluded