Short Story

Death By Association


Only an occasional night bird could be heard. The night was complete, too dark for shadows, too quiet for anything good to happen. A presence moved, no sound, no apparent purpose. “Who’s there? Who is it? I say.” Ned Walsh’s reedy voice seemed loud in the dark room.

“Just me, Ned, relax. I just came to check on ya.”

“What time is it? Why are you here in the middle of the night? How did you get in? What’s going on? I don’t like this. You’re making me nervous.”

“Calm down, Ned. Everything’s okay. Did you take your medication? Let me see.” The visitor picked up a bottle from the nightstand. “I don’t think you took your last dose. I’ll help you.” He lifted Ned’s head and removed the pillow from beneath it. The soft pillow cut off the old man’s air. The feeble struggle he put up was over in seconds. As quietly as he had come, the visitor left the room. He locked the front door behind him and was gone in a matter of seconds.

The next morning a beat-up van pulled to a stop in front of the ambulance. “What happened?” asked Rufus Skaggs, the handyman.

“Ned Walsh passed away sometime last night,” said Pam Bronson. “His sister found him when she came to check on him this morning.”

“Too bad. He was a nice old guy. As sick as he’s been, though, I guess I’m not too surprised. I’ve been fixing his stuff for close to twenty years. I’ll miss him,” said Rufus as he started the van and drove to the end unit of the complex. He had to fix a broken toilet for Mrs. Cummings and spread the word about Ned Walsh. Rufus loved to know everything and it made him feel important to pass the gossip.

“You know,” commented Pam to her husband, “the place is beginning to look kind of grim. We have what, sixty, sixty-five units? Forty are lived in and the rest are vacation homes. We’ve been losing people at the rate of about one every three or four months.”

“Yeah, but don’t forget, the people we’ve lost have all been in their eighties. And all of them have been in fairly poor health. It’s really not too unusual. It just seems like a lot of people dyeing because we’re such a small community.”

“Will you get the listings, Dan?” He had listed nearly all of the properties here since he started in real estate ten years ago. He was a broker now and still sold most of the units as they became available.

“Now there’s something really strange. I got the first few, but a company called RKA, Inc., bought the rest before anyone else could make a bid. The last units have gone directly to RKA. They must have a deal with the mortgage houses to let them know when a property is coming on the market. They scoop them up before anyone else has a chance.”

“But a lot of these places must be owned free and clear. What about them?”

“Umm, good question,” said Dan. “I really don’t know, but I’ll check and find out what I can.”

The ambulance made its way out through the security gates, taking Mr. Walsh on his last ride. The complex quieted and folks went back to their homes, grateful they weren’t taking that ride. Birds flew from pine tree to palm tree and ducks quacked their way up and down the waterways. The waterfall made a pleasant sound. A few hardy souls sunned themselves by the pool or sat in the spa’s bubbling water and remembered Ned to each other.

Some, not many, of the complex residents were at work. At the far end of the complex Rufus completed the plumbing project for Mrs. Cummings. He was the self-proclaimed, world’s leading expert on everything! “He was ready to go. I know. I talked to him two days ago. He said he was really tired of all the bullshit in the world and wanted to die in peace. People can program themselves to die, you know. Some tribes in…” Mrs. Cummings tuned the rest out. Sometimes Rufus was entertaining, but today she was thinking of old age and the neighbors who had recently passed away.

Rufus went next to Judy Ott’s place. She was inspecting the waterway in back of her unit. Debris had clogged the drain. It was breeding mold and the smell was getting powerful in the July heat. “I told those stupid jerks what to do to fix this problem, but does anyone listen to me? What do I know?” Rufus threw his hands in the air in disgust.

“I’ll have to call them back,” said Judy. “I can’t live with this.”

“I’ll tell you right now what will get done, nothing that’s what! No matter how many times I tell the board what needs to be done, those stupid bastards would rather go cheap and end up paying a fortune in the long run.”

When Rufus finally left, Judy climbed down into the stream and tried to loosen some of the leaves and sticks clogging the drain. The artificial stone she was standing on gave way and dumped her into the stream. Her leg was canted at an unnatural angle. The pain hit with a blinding force and Judy screamed John, the gardener found her writhing in agony and lifted her from the stream. Judy fainted, which was a blessing, and gave John a moment to dial 911. The paramedics were there within half an hour. One of them remarked, “This is beginning to be part of our regular run. At least this one’s alive.”

Judy spent the rest of the day in the hospital getting her leg X-rayed and put in a cast. She came home late that evening, still in a great deal of pain. The Percodan prescribed by the doctor helped, but Judy was particularly sensitive to pain. She remembered an old morphine patch from two years ago and hoped it was still good. She had been warned not to take the medication more often than was prescribed and definitely not to take it with alcohol.

Rufus came by with a bottle of wine. “How ya doin? I brought this for a get-well present.” Judy was touched at his thoughtfulness. Rufus had his moments. He knew Judy liked her toddy, sometimes a bit too much.

“Thanks, Rufus. I’ll have to save it till another time. The doctor warned me not to drink with this medicine.”

“No problem, hope you feel better soon.” Rufus waved a quick good- bye and left. Judy could hear his ancient van sputter and cough, then catch. “Twenty-two years and still goin strong,” he would brag.

The trees and shrubs masked what light there was. The entry was on the side facing the pool. Even with the pool lights on, the glow did not reach the door. The recently oiled bolt slid back noiselessly. Faint footsteps down the hall and into the bedroom. Judy lay on the bed in a tangle of covers submerged in a fitful sleep. The vial of Percodan and a glass of water were on the nightstand. The visitor went back down the hall and aimed his flashlight around. There was a bottle of Scotch in the cabinet over the refrigerator. He quickly opened it, poured a glass half full, and carried it t to the bedroom. Several Percodan tablets were stirred into the Scotch before he gently woke Judy.

“What?” her slurred speech told him the medicine had already made her dopey.

“Just me, Judy. Time for your meds.”

‘No, took them, took them already. Know I did.”

“This will help with the pain. You can sleep now. Be good and drink up.” Judy was too befuddled to object. The drink made her sputter; the pain subsided almost immediately. Nobody would be surprised when they found alcohol mixed with her pain meds.

“Weren’t we just here?” asked the ambulance driver.

" Yeah, Graveside Condo,” joked his sidekick.

“No, I mean here, at this address.”

“Hey, you’re right.” They quickly entered the condo and examined Judy. “She’s alive but just barely. Put her on oxygen and get the gurney.” The trip to Sunrise Hospital was fast but not fast enough. Judy died before they could get her there. Later the coroner ruled death from alcohol and Percodan. No big surprise.

“That’s another one,” said Pam. “This is beginning to make me edgy.”

“Who found her?” asked Dan.

“The cleaning woman. She called the paramedics.”

When Rufus heard about Judy he wept openly. “Such a nice lady. A real sweetheart. She was always nice to me. I even gave her a bottle of wine yesterday for a get-well present.” Rufus leaned against his ancient van and blew his nose. He hiked himself up and got behind the wheel. He drove slowly down to Mrs. Marlow’s house to put in a new showerhead.

“I guess you heard about Judy. The police aren’t saying much but they asked me for my opinion and, frankly, I think there’s something fishy going on.”

“Something fishy?” repeated Mrs. Marlow. “How do you mean that?”

Well, you know she only broke her leg. It wasn’t like she hit her head or anything. Did you know that she had a lot of money? She told me she inherited millions from her uncle. She said she was going to leave it to Catholic Charity.”

“Really? I didn’t even know she was Catholic.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, me and Judy were tight. I mean we were friends. She told me a lot of stuff she never told other people. She trusted me.” Rufus hiked his baggy pants up over his paunch. “Okay, what else did you want fixed? Didn’t you say you had a list? Show me the list and I’ll do what I want to do.” He laughed, but Mrs. Marlow knew he more than half meant it. She also knew he would take his own sweet time about doing it. People in the complex used to call Rufus for all their ‘fix-it’ needs, but over the years they began to call him for only minor jobs. When major repairs were needed they called licensed professionals, claiming that Rufus took too long.

When Dan arrived home that evening, Pam was waiting. “What did you find out?”

“Not much,” said Dan. “The records all show this corporation, RKA, holds title to at least fifteen properties here in the complex, all of them acquired within the last ten years. What I can’t find out is just who RKA is.”

“Keep looking,” said Pam anxiously. “There’s something going on, I can feel it.”

“Your famous intuition,” laughed Dan.

“Don’t laugh. You know how often I’m right about stuff.” Actually he did know. His wife had an uncanny way of knowing or sensing things long before there was any real evidence. Over the years, he had learned to trust her judgment

When Dan looked up ownership of the various condos, he found RKA listed as primary owner but RKA seemed to be held by a parent company with many subsidiary companies. When he tried to find out more, he ran into a blank wall. This alone made him wonder. A letter to the company was returned with a terse note stating that RKA was a holding company, and the condos were being purchased for vacation homes for executives of several corporations coming from other areas who needed a place to get away and relax for a while. Dan wondered how many “vacation homes” one company would need. As far as he could tell, none of the condos had been occupied in the past several months, maybe as long as two years. He’d have to ask Pam. She would remember.

Three months passed before the visitor decided to make the next condo available. On the morning of July fifth, the air conditioning unit at Mr. Tomlin’s quit. The day was already hot at seven in the morning, and according to the weatherman it would get into triple digits before the day was over. Not a day to go without air. Rufus was there before eight and had the A/C unit taken apart by nine-thirty. “Damn fools,” he ranted. “Do they ever listen? No way! I’ve told them a thousand times not to put this unit in. It’s too small for the job and this brand sucks.” Mr. Tomlin listened as patiently as he could while Rufus griped about the board of directors and how cheap they were.

“I just need to know if you can fix it,” said Tomlin. You know I have a heart condition. I can’t take the heat. It makes me sick.”

“Keep your shorts on, Tom. There ain’t nothin I can’t fix. Just give me some time.” Rufus had the parts strewn over the roof and on the lawn. “I have to go for some parts. I’ll be right back. Stay cool.” He cranked up the ancient van and left the complex. At Home Depot he purchased nuts and bolts, a new air compressor that he had been wanting, and some paint. All of these things would be added to Tomlin’s bill. Four hours later he returned.

“Where have you been? I’m sick from the heat. You’ve gotta get me some air. I can’t take this.” The outside temperature was over one hundred and still climbing.

“Hang on, hang on, I’ll have this fixed in a jiffy. If those cheap bastards on the board would listen, this wouldn’t happen. You just wait, the entire complex is gonna crash and burn one of these days. They keep buying this junk. Hope they got good insurance. When it happens they’ll be calling ole Rufus, and guess what?” He flipped his fingers under his chin. “They can go to hell. See if I care.”

Rufus finally finished. “There, it’s as good as new.” The cool air felt good. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up, but you’ll be okay for now. I’ve got three more jobs to do before I can quit.” His cell phone rang. “It never ends.” He threw his hands in the air and shambled off talking on the phone. “Rest awhile.” He called back. “ I’ll stop by and check on ya when I’m finished. How’s that?”

Tomlin’s color was bad. The ordeal with the heat and the anxiety had taken its toll. He took his medicine and went to bed early. The night was wrapped in heat and humidity. The A/C seemed to be humming along, but it still felt unbearably hot. Sleep was fitful and filled with dreams of someone in the room with him.

“Hot, huh?” said a voice in the dark. Tomlin thought it was part of his dream.

“Is there someone there?” Tomlin listened for further sound, but none came.

“Can’t sleep?” came the voice. “You need a tranquilizer. This heat’s too much.”

“Who is it? Who’s there? You! What are you doing here?”

“Let me help. You need your rest.” The voice was soothing and concerned. “You didn’t take all of your medicine. I’ll get it for you.”

“Get away from me! I took my medicine. Why are you here?” Tomlin’s voice trembled as he tried to make sense of the voice in the dark.

“Here now, take your medicine. This will let you sleep.” A strong hand held the old man’s mouth open and the medicine was poured in. The hand shifted to the nose until the liquid was swallowed. “There, you’ll feel better very soon.” Mr. Tomlin drifted into a deep coma and passed from all care within moments. The visitor left the way he had come in. He was on his way to his car when lights lit the end of the street. He hid behind a tree until the danger passed. “Have to be more careful,” he thought. “Not a good time to be seen.”

Dan looked over at Pam. “Just who is this RKA? I can’t find anything on them. The strange thing is that they seem to be gobbling up the complex one unit at a time. I checked on the mortgage for Tomlin’s place. Looks like he owned it free and clear. Any messages from beyond?” He smiled.

“No, and don’t start on me. I just know something is off kilter. I just don’t know what.

What did Tomlin die of anyway?”

“His brother said heart failure due to heat. Rufus fixed the unit day before yesterday, but I guess it was down for several hours. The heat plus the anxiety must have been too much for him. I asked his brother what he planned to do with the unit, but he said Tomlin had already sold it to a group some time ago with the provision that it would be his to stay in as long as he lived.”

“I’m going to talk to Fred.

“Fred! Don’t say anything to him. He’s a cop. This isn’t a police matter. What are you going to say? Oh, hey, Fred, I have a funny feeling about old sick people dying around here.”

“He’s my cousin, and you know he believes me when I tell him something is off kilter. Besides, Judy wasn’t old.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know what in the world he could do. Why don’t you invite him and Helen over for dinner this weekend? We can all talk about it away from the police station. Won’t seem so official, more just friendly chatter.”

The complex was quiet. Pam took their old dog, Morgan, for a late-night stroll.

Morgan pulled at the leash, trying to go into some bushes beside Buffy Tyler’s unit. “Stop that, Morgan, come back here.” Pam lunged after the determined dog as he pulled the leash from her hand. “Here you are. Bad dog!” She found him snuffling along in the dark shadows below Buffy’s window. Pam pulled Morgan back to the lighted street but instead of resuming their walk, she hurried home.

Another time, thought the visitor. Tonight’s not a good night.

“I’m telling you, Dan, that window was blocked open and I had the feeling someone was watching. I’m calling Buffy, I don’t care how late it is.” She dialed the phone. “Buffy, it’s me, Pam. I hate to call you so late. I know you get up early, but I just had to let you know about your window.”

“Window? What are you talking about?” Buffy’s sleepy voice came back at Pam.

“Your side window, go check it.” Pam could hear Buffy leaving the room, then picking the phone back up.

“The windows okay. What are you talking about?

“Buff, I was there just a few minutes ago, walking Morgan. The window was slightly open.”

“Are you sure? It’s closed now. I just locked it.”

Pam turned to her husband, “Let’s go back in the morning when we can see. I know that window was open and I know someone was there. I could feel a presence.”

The next morning Pam insisted that Dan go with her to inspect Buffy’s window. The window was closed and locked, but there did appear to be footprints in the soft earth under it. “Could be the gardeners, no way to know,” said Dan.

“It shows that someone was here, standing right under the window.”

“Could be…something. I’m not sure what it proves.”

That evening Tippi Harris went over to visit Mrs. Mallory. Tippi was one of the younger homeowners and took it upon herself to check on some of the older residents in the complex. Mrs. Mallory was in her eighties, and though she wouldn’t admit it, she was pleased and grateful for Tippi’s daily visits. Some things were getting hard for her to do on her own. “Do you need anything? Can I get you a bite of dinner or a soft drink?”

“No dear, but its very kind of you to ask. I’m just fine but I think Henry needs fresh water and food, if you don’t mind.”

Tippi opened the door to Henry’s cage. The large green-and-yellow parrot immediately flew to Mrs. Mallory. “Henry needs fresh water and food, if you don’t mind.” Henry mimicked Mrs. Mallory’s voice so accurately it made Tippi laugh. “If I weren’t looking at him I’d think you were speaking.”

“I know, it’s kinda spooky. Listen to this. Henry’s a bad boy.” “Henry’s a bad boy,” the parrot repeated in Mrs. Mallory’s voice.

“He always repeats the last thing I say. If you didn’t know, you’d swear it was me talking”

On Sunday several people gathered at the pool to visit and relax. Naturally the talk turned to recent events in their community. “Rufus said that Ned Walsh wanted to die. He said Ned told him as much,” said Mrs. Cummings.

"That windbag. What does he know? How about Judy? Did she break her leg ‘cause she was tired of living? Rufus is an ass, he’ll say anything,” replied Mrs. Mallory. “You know he’s been doing odd jobs in here for as long as I’ve lived here, nearly fifteen years now. Does anyone know where he lives? He never puts an address on any bills.” No one knew. “Another thing, look at his van, New Mexico license plates. New Mexico, my Aunt Hattie. He’s lived here for over twenty years that I know of. Even when his mother lived here in the complex, he was always the mystery man. Always the big shot.”

“Oh, Rufus is okay. He just likes to gossip and brag about all the important people he knows,” said George. “Rufus has fixed a lot of stuff for me over the years. I don’t pay his chatter no never mind.” The group was almost equally divided. Some declared Rufus to be a know-it-all jerk. Others thought he was useful, if talkative. In fact, some of the residents enjoyed his gossip, even when they suspected some of it to be exaggeration.

Fred and his wife came to dinner. Over pot roast, Fred listened to Dan and Pam talk about the deaths in the complex and Pam’s fear that something was amiss. “Seems there’s an awful lot of strange feelings and not a lot of fact going on here.” Fred held up his hand. “Before you go jumping on me, let me say that I’ll keep a watch. If I can put anything together that doesn’t look okay, I’ll let you know.”

Pam served coffee and strawberry ice cream. “Fred, I can feel something. It’s like a bad vibe in the air. Too many people, people we call friends, are dying. I know something is wrong.”

The next evening Dan ran from the car into the house. “You’re not going to believe who RKA is. I started tracing the company through the tax records and found that RKA is owned by…well it’s too lengthy to go into but each company led to another until finally it led to...guess who?”

“Dan! I’m going to skin you if you don’t stop beating around the bush and tell me.”

That night Mrs. Mallory died peacefully in her sleep. Tippi had gone to check on her and Henry. “She looked so natural, just like she was asleep. She seemed fine when I left her. I can’t understand it. It’s not like her to leave her medicine by her nightstand. She always kept it in the bathroom so she wouldn’t forget and take it twice.” Tippi broke down and cried. The paramedics took Mrs. Mallory’s body away.

Fred, Dan and Pam got together and discussed the latest association death. “There’s nothing definite but I think you’re on to something. We need a way to prove it. Dan, you’re on the board of directors, and it’s within your power to call a special meeting. Go ahead and call one. Let’s see if we can’t stir things up a bit.”

The meeting was called and, unlike most board meetings, this one was attended by almost everyone in the complex. Even Rufus Skaggs was invited, on the premise that he might offer suggestions on extra security, if in fact something strange was happening. There was no doubt that the residents were becoming uneasy. Dan called the meeting to order.

“Rufus, let me address this comment to you,” said Dan. “I’ve discovered that a group called RKA has purchased all of the units belonging to people who died recently. Do you have any idea who they might be?”

“Me?” Rufus looked genuinely surprised. “How in hell would I know anything about that?”

“Well, you have known everyone in here for years. According to you, people have told you some pretty amazing things about their finances.” Dan stood back and waited for Rufus to reply. When he didn’t, Dan pressed on. “Mrs. Mallory just signed over her unit to RKA this past month. Don’t you find it odd that everyone who signs over their unit dies within weeks?”

“Hey, if you got somethin to say, say it! I don’t have to put up with any of this board shit. I’ve offered to run this place and do it right, but you jerks would rather pay too much and get too little for your money. It’s nothin to me. I’m an independent contractor.”

“Yes, one without a license or an address, as it turns out. Would it surprise the board to know that Rufus is RKA?”

Rufus hiked up his baggy pants. “That don’t mean nothin. Sure that’s my company. So what? Ain’t no law against that.”

“Maybe not, but murder is definitely against the law,” said Dan.

“Murder? Are you nuts? I’d like to see you prove it!”

Dan called Fred, who came through the door carrying Henry in his cage. “Let’s see what Henry has to say.” He took the cover from the bird’s cage. In a perfect Mrs. Mallory voice, Henry said, “Please, don’t make me take more medicine, Rufus. No! no please Rufus Don’t.” Two uniformed policemen came into the room and handcuffed Rufus. Before they led him away, Dan asked,” By the way what does RKA stand for?”

Rufus smirked, then he laughed. “Rufus Kicks Ass! I got tired of you cheap board bastards looking down on me, so I decided to take over and do things my way.”