Coulson's Crucible Read online

“I’ve a call on hold for Mr. Coulson, are you done with your meeting? Can I put the call through?”

  “I believe Mr. Coulson stepped into the restroom,” John told her. “Perhaps you should give him a few minutes before you put any calls through.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Weber.”

  John flashed Maryanne a smile then left Randall Coulson’s outer office.

  Later that afternoon, as Maryanne began getting ready to go home for the evening, John Weber walked back into her office.

  “Is he in there?” John asked.

  “Yes, he just got off the phone.”

  “Please tell him I’m here. He asked me for some papers earlier, and I brought them.”

  “Would you like me to take them in for you?”

  “No, thanks. I’m afraid I need to go over a few of them with him.”

  “Okay.” Maryanne picked up her telephone to ring her boss. When he got on the phone, she explained Mr. Weber was here to see him and had brought the papers he had requested.

  “He said to go right in,” Maryann said when she hung up the phone.

  “So what were you able to find out?” Randall asked as he lit his cigar and leaned back in his desk chair.

  John took the chair next to the desk and opened the file he had hastily prepared.

  “Before checking into the Cliffwood, he was staying with his sister and brother-in-law—Nick and Gina Carracci. It looks like Carracci and his wife are straight arrows. They have a boarding house up at Clement Falls and a little girl. It appears Carracci is not fond of his brother-in-law, but his wife is always trying to bail out her brother.

  “I don’t think Vera is in imminent danger, because according to my sources, Marino left town for the week but intends to return next Saturday. I’m not really sure where he went, but his car doesn’t seem to be anywhere in town. If Vera is having an affair with him, I really couldn’t find anything to support that.”

  “So what about his past? Do I need to be concerned?” Randall asked.

  “He’s been married three times. The first wife died in childbirth. But the second wife, she was murdered. Strangled. I talked to some cops in Long Island, and they’re certain he was involved, but he had an airtight alibi and they couldn’t pin it on him. Apparently, a second body was found around the same time. The guy had been shot. According to a close friend of Marino’s dead wife, the wife was having an affair with the dead guy.”

  “This doesn’t sound promising. What about the third wife?”

  “He had a son with the third wife. Apparently, he used to knock her around a lot. She got tired of being his punching bag and took off with the kid.”

  “Are you sure she took off? You think he killed her?” Randall asked.

  “I don’t think so. Her family isn’t screaming for the cops to look into her disappearance. They don’t seem to be talking.”

  “What about the rest?”

  “Well, it looks like he was hanging out with some heavy hitters back east. According to a couple guys I talked to, they’re convinced he’s a hitman for one of the crime families back there. There’s definitely some connection between him and Vincent Santiago.”

  “The crime boss?”

  “Yes. Word has it he sent Marino out here to cool off. Not sure what happened. There aren’t any warrants out on him, but the cops I talked to say he’s bad news.”

  “Anything else, John?”

  “No. That’s about all I could find on such short notice.”

  “You did great. You always do.” Randall leaned over and patted John’s knee.

  “So what are you going to do with the information?”

  “I haven’t decided. But it looks like I may have a little time to think about it, if he is out of town. Maybe we’ll be lucky and he won’t return.”

  “I hope so. By the way, I’m having a poker game tomorrow night, you want to come over?” John asked.

  “Who’ll be there?”

  “Just me.”

  “I’ll be there.” Randall smiled. “Thanks again John, I owe you.”

  “Don’t worry Randall; I’ll make you pay up tomorrow night.” Both men laughed.

  Chapter 14

  The week seemed to drag for Vera. Halloween was over for her on Saturday, in spite of the fact the holiday fell on Monday. She had other things on her mind. Garret went out with friends on Halloween night and Russell met up with Tommy and Ryan to go trick-or-treating. Vera paid little attention to Russell or his Halloween costume and left it to Garret to lecture his younger brother on safety issues.

  She said goodbye to her eldest son, Sonny, who flew to New York on Wednesday for the first leg of his European tour, carefully planned out by his grandfather.

  Ever present on her mind was Anthony Marino. Harrison attributed Vera’s gloomy mood to the fact their eldest son was leaving for six months. Vera hadn’t expected to miss Anthony, but she did. Every day she drove downtown and cruised by the motel, checking to see if he might have returned early. She didn’t understand the hold he had on her, but she could not deny it existed.

  The morning after Sonny left for New York, Vera sat at her dressing table, looking into its mirror. Combing her hair, she thought of Anthony. Setting the brush on the marble table, she touched the side of her neck and tilted her head to the opposite side so she could get a better view. Anthony had frightened her when he had wrapped his hands around her throat and choked her, but he explained why he had done it. He loves me, she thought. She understood that kind of love. Vera felt it from her first lover. Harrison didn’t love her. He hadn’t even flinch when she had ordered him out of her bed. She could not imagine issuing such a decree to Anthony. If she dared try, he would hold her down and use his body to punish her.

  Vera closed her eyes and thought of her first lover. In some ways, he reminded her of Anthony—and in some ways they were nothing alike.

  * * *

  Chicago, 1932

  Vera had just celebrated her fourteenth birthday when her parents left her with the Andersons for two years. Her father had accepted a diplomatic post overseas, and her mother did not want to subject her daughter to foreigners—although she herself was joining her husband on his new adventure.

  Mrs. Anderson was a close friend of Vera’s mother and while the woman was rarely home, due to her numerous charity activities, Vera’s parents were confident their daughter would be properly cared for while under the Andersons’ roof.

  Vera didn’t object to the arrangement as she had a schoolgirl crush on the handsome Mr. Anderson. He looked like a movie star and never treated Vera like a child. He made her feel grown up.

  She had only been at his home for two days when he had called her into his study for a little chat. Mrs. Anderson was not at home—she rarely was—but Mr. Anderson, who had family money and didn’t go to an office like her own father, seemed to spend most of his time at his estate.

  “Please take a seat, Vera. You look lovely today, by the way,” he greeted when she walked into his study. “And please, shut the door behind you.”

  Shy and a little nervous, Vera thanked him for the compliment, shut the door, and took a seat near his desk.

  “With your parents out of the country and you living in my home, I take my responsibility toward you very seriously.”

  “I promise I won’t be any trouble,” she vowed.

  He chuckled at her promise and flashed a smile. “No dear, I don’t imagine you will be any trouble. My main concern is keeping you safe. Protecting you from those who might wish to do harm to such a lovely young woman.”

  Vera loved how he called her a young woman and not a girl. It made her feel very grown up.

  “I have a little something I would like you to read. I would prefer you keep this between you and me and not say anything to my wife, to any of your friends or the staff.”

  “I don’t understand?” Vera frowned, clearly confused.

  “My dear wife sees you as a child, Vera. She refuses to acknowledge yo
u are no longer a little girl but a budding young woman. Therefore, she would think my lessons for you unnecessary. But you are not a child, are you?”

  “No, sir.” Vera looked adoringly up into Fred Anderson’s eyes.

  He handed her an old book, its pages and cover worn and tattered

  “The Life and Adventures of Miss Fanny Hill,” she read the title aloud.

  “It’s about a girl, just your age. Like you, she is without her parents, and like you, she is not a child. I have a feeling you’ll be able to relate to Fanny and all her adventures. Please read it, and later we can discuss the book.”

  “I will. And I promise, I won’t tell.”

  What she didn’t know, The Life and Adventures of Miss Fanny Hill was considered erotica by some, yet pornographic by most. She would not find the banned book in any bookstore she might frequent.

  A few days later Fred called Vera back into his study and told her to bring the book with her. She did as she was told. When they were alone in the room, he began to ask her questions about the story.

  “Perhaps my mother is right, and I am just a child. I really don’t understand the book,” Vera confessed. Fred smiled and then patiently began to explain the story. He reread some of the more sexually provocative passages to her.

  “So you see, Vera,” he said when he finally closed the book. “Evil people will conspire to steal a young girl’s virtue. It’s valuable. Sometimes it’s best to simply rid yourself of what they want so they’ll leave you alone.”

  “That man…the one who they sold her to, he reminds me of my music teacher.”

  “Yes, and I imagine your music teacher has been looking at you the same way as the man in the story looked at Fanny. But it’s not really his fault. He’s a man, Vera. Men are weak and it is up to you, as a woman to always be in control of the situation. Someday, if your music teacher gets the opportunity, I don’t doubt he will try to force himself on you, if he believes you are still an innocent. He will use you in the same way the men used Fanny in the book.”

  “No,” Vera said, frantically shaking her head in denial.

  “Please, Vera, you are not a child, remember. I suppose if your parents were here, one of them would be discussing this with you. But since they aren’t, it’s up to me to do the right thing.”

  “I won’t take music lessons anymore!”

  He laughed sardonically, then shook his head at her foolishness. “If it’s not him, it will be someone else. It’s your innocence they want—your first time. Just as with Fanny. Remember the story. Men can sense a young girl’s innocence. Once it is gone, you won’t be as vulnerable.”

  “I don’t understand. What should I do?”

  “Well,” Fred began, studying Vera’s expression. “If you were my daughter, I would urge you to find an older man—someone you trusted—someone you found attractive—and ask him to guide you into womanhood.

  “Think of it this way, Vera. Imagine you’re given a gold ring, with a very large diamond. When you’re out, alone, without protection, thieves will see the diamond and want it. Once you lose the diamond, you can wear the gold ring without as much fear. Oh, I’m not saying thieves won’t still want your gold ring, but you’ll be much safer than you were when it had a diamond.

  “Your innocence—the fact that you have never been with a man—is like a diamond that men want to steal. Give it away to the man of your choosing, and you will be safer. But, do it quickly, because you’re far too lovely for men to resist.

  “I’m afraid a young innocent is always vulnerable to evil. I wish, for your sake, your mother would have realized—before she left—that you are no longer a child. You need a protector. You need someone like Fanny’s Charles.”

  It was several days before Fred showed Vera what he meant. Unfortunately, he did not gently guide her into womanhood. By the time he’d removed her clothes, she began having second thoughts. When he removed his, she knew it was not something she wanted to do. Lost in his sexual fervor, Fred held her down as he forced his way into her untried body, ignoring her cries.

  When it was over, he sobbed, telling her how much he loved her, begging her to forgive him. He reminded her she had to assume some of the responsibility for his actions, as she was simply too tempting, too beautiful. Frightened and confused, she forgave him.

  The next night when he slipped into her bed, she was already sleeping, therefore unprepared for the weight of his body that held her down, or the hand placed over her mouth to silence her cries.

  “I am your Charles,” he whispered. “I must protect you, but to do that you must submit to me like Fanny submitted to Charles. Love me, Vera. Love me, Fanny.” Moving his hand from her mouth, his lips covered hers. He ignored her silent protest.

  In Vera’s own way, she came to love Fred. She had always found him handsome, and once the initial pain subsided, he introduced her to exquisite physical pleasure. Within two months, she welcomed him into her bed, eager for his lessons. She was his Fanny—he was her Charles.

  Mrs. Anderson had a fairly good idea what was going on under her roof. She wasn’t concerned Fred would get Vera pregnant, as he was sterile due to a childhood illness. She was actually relieved he was leaving her alone. Mrs. Anderson would let her husband have his young lover, yet when Vera’s parents returned, she would have to do something to end the affair. It would be quite scandalous if Vera’s parents discovered her husband had seduced their daughter.

  The affair ended when Vera was seventeen. Much to Mrs. Anderson’s annoyance, it was not as easy to terminate the relationship as she initially thought. It continued even after Vera’s parents returned to the country, and Vera moved back home.

  Frustrated over her inability to break up the sordid affair, she told her husband a lie about Vera. She insisted Vera was seeing a young man, and there was talk of a marriage. Of course, it was all a lie and he would find out the truth, but she just wanted to inflict some pain, if even temporary.

  What she hadn’t planned on was her husband’s despair at the news. She found him the next morning, hanging in his study. He had committed suicide.

  At the funeral, she found young Vera silently morning Fred’s death.

  “It’s your fault,” Mrs. Anderson whispered to the young woman.

  “I don’t understand?” Vera had no idea Mrs. Anderson was aware of the affair.

  “I told him you were getting married—and he killed himself. You are an evil girl, Vera. I don’t know what you did to my poor husband, but you drove him to his grave.”

  Chapter 15

  By the Friday after Halloween, her period had ended. However, for as much as she wanted to be with Anthony again, she did not want to get pregnant. She could not even imagine what she would do if such a thing happened. Harrison would know it wasn’t his, and if Anthony demanded she get a divorce, she would be ruined. Women in her position did not get divorced and then marry their Italian lovers. What would her parents say? She came up with a plan.

  On Saturday morning, Vera slipped into Garret’s bedroom. It was no secret her middle son had condoms in his bathroom. She had heard Harrison and Randall joke about it. She would take a couple, and then ask Anthony to start buying them. She couldn’t make the purchase, and Garret would start noticing if too many were missing.

  Anthony had no idea he would be so happy to get back to this shit town, but all he could think about was Vera Coulson and what he wanted to do to her body. Ironically, he intended to be her drug, but she had become his.

  She was perfection. Before his last wife got pregnant and fat, he’d used her body in unconventional ways, but she usually ended up crying while begging him to stop. He knew Vera didn’t enjoy certain things he did to her—but her tears were silent and she never asked him to stop. Even when he intentionally made it more painful, she accepted the fact he owned her completely. Perfection.

  Lounging nude on the bed, he waited for his lover to arrive. He didn’t have long to wait. Five minutes early, Vera rushed into th
e room and into his arms. Impatient hands tugged at her clothes, desperate to get her in the same state of undress as his body.

  “Wait,” Vera breathlessly pleaded, gently pushing him away.

  “What for?” He bit her neck and continued to grope at her clothes.

  Vera handed a small package to Anthony. He didn’t take it. Instead, he looked at it, perplexed, as if he didn’t quite understand what she was offering him. He frowned. It was a condom.

  Snatching it from her hand, he waved it in the air. “What is this for?”

  “I stole it from my son’s room. I thought we could use it today, and then you could buy some, for later. I have a couple more in my purse. So I don’t get pregnant.”

  Anthony froze. He stared at the small package then looked into Vera’s face. The condom slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Before she knew what happened, Anthony pulled back his hand and slapped her across the face, sending her falling to the floor.

  She looked up at him, bewildered and confused, clutching her face, the sting still throbbed.

  “What the fuck, you too good for my kid?” he shouted, and then kicked Vera in the belly with full force. Vera rolled into a protective ball as Anthony continued to kick her, his bare foot doing less damage than had he been wearing shoes, yet still painful.

  “You think you can tell me what I can do with your body? I own you, bitch.”

  Reaching down he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. Tossing her on the bed, he punched her belly and thighs repeatedly, ignoring her pleas. When he was tired of using her like a punching bag, he slapped her face repeatedly.

  “You want to see what I think about your idea of using a condom?” he shouted as he rolled her over on her belly and jerked up her skirt and ripped off her panties. Brutally, he raped her, leaving no orifice unscathed.

  When his rage subsided, he let her rest before cleaning her up. The only real damage to her clothes was her underpants. Making her stand before him, he straightened her clothes and combed her hair. Still in shock, Vera could barely move.