Monster And Other Tales

By David Wigg

The seventeen tales in this volume make up a broad literary landscape...from drones carrying pure-hydrogen nuclear weapons to man-eating bears...and from an 'accidental, high-priced assassin to treason and succession in the White House.  If you've ever wondered what happens when home-invaders meet up with the 'business end' of a twelve-gauge shotgun, or how a 'First Lady' disposes of a treasonous President, you've come to the right place. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Wigg
• Release date: Nov 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386977506

David Wigg

David Wigg lives in rural Missouri and spends his time writing fiction, growing vegetables and flowers, fishing and travelling abroad with Linda...his muse, his inspiration and the love of his life.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

The seventeen tales in this volume make up a broad literary landscape...from drones carrying pure-hydrogen nuclear weapons to man-eating bears...and from an ‘accidental’, high-priced assassin to treason and succession in the White House.  If you’ve ever wondered what happens when home-invaders meet up with the ‘business end’ of a twelve-gauge shotgun, or how a ‘First Lady’ disposes of a treasonous President, you’ve come to the right place. 

PREFACE

The following are brief descriptions...in order...of all of the tales in this volume.

It Takes One to Eat One...A victim of thirty years of spousal abuse gets a shot at ultimate revenge.  Should she take it?

Treason and Succession...Oh My! ...The first lady tolerates her husband’s sexual escapades in the White House. But, when his lack of discretion and weak character lead to treason and major damage to America’s national security...well, that calls for drastic action.  The President and some in his Cabinet would have to go...and she has just the man to pull it off.

OMG...Rhonda Roberts and Tony Bennett don’t know each other, but they have important things in common.  Both of their lives are fulfilling and exciting and ‘lady luck’ is an ally.  However, when they do finally meet, ‘fate’ deals the last hand.

It Takes One to Save One...A phantom presence helps a nine-year old maneuver around life-threatening events.  But there’s a price...someone else has to die each time he saves himself.  In a final showdown, the price is more than he’s willing to pay.

Home Defense...Harold Schmidt, a retired insurance adjuster in a small Missouri town, has never dealt with violence in his quiet life.  But, he’s having nightmares about home-invaders breaking down his door and murdering him and his wife.  He buys a gun for self-protection...and it’s just in time...or is it?

Footsteps...Meet Mary Tosie, a member of the Bitter Water Clan of the Navajo Nation and New Mexico’s Chief Medical Examiner.  She uses science-based reasoning to build evidence to help solve her cases.  But the answers in this case may be beyond the bounds of forensic science or, for that matter, any other human understanding.

Monster...This bear weighs-in at over two-thousand pounds, stalks the Southern Rockies and he likes people...to eat.  Mary Tosie has her hands full with this case.

Death on the Rogue...The Rogue River Valley is home to a mysterious lake where dozens of people have vanished over many years, spawning wild legends of man-eating monsters.  But the lake is land-locked and filled with fresh water.  There must be a logical answer and Mary Tosie flies out to Southern Oregon to help her struggling cousin figure it out.

It Takes One to Kill One...A young, successful, happily-married CIA Analyst takes a drive on a country road in Sterling Virginia and becomes a victim of murderous road rage.  He kills to defend his life, then, kills again by accident.  Once on the run, he stumbles onto a new profession...becoming a high-priced, world-class assassin.

White Horse Make a Wish...What if you could conjure-up good luck when you needed it?  David can.  But, could too much good luck be dangerous?

Payback...The ‘ambassador’ is at it again.  This time he’s avenging the death of his half-brother, taking-on a murderous, all-powerful cartel at the ‘off-the-record’ behest of the CIA Director, and helping a friend to ‘even the score’ for the bizarre murder of his brother.

The Candlestick and the Polygraph...From his perch at his favorite bar, Clyde’s, in Washington, D.C., a man gets involved in a strange adventure that includes a body disposal in ‘swanky’ Georgetown  and ‘fooling’ the CIA’s polygraph examiners.

The Robins...What can we do when there are too many people on the planet?  Why, kill them off, of course.

Digger...Earl, a small-town boy in 1950’s rural Mississippi, gets into trouble when he and his friend, Wayne, ask a buxom high-school classmate to take off her top...they want to see her breasts.  Things spiral out of control, but Earl has an ace in the hole...he’s the town grave-digger, with a special skill.

Hard-Luck Charlie...Is bad luck truly random...or is it something that clings to you, like body odor?  Charlie knows the answer.  He carries it around with him through the course of his life.  It might even have ‘rubbed-off’ as Charlie lives through some major events in America’s history.  When he breaks his bad-luck cycle, powerful forces make a ‘correction’.

It Takes One to Lose One...A nice, old widow from Portland, Oregon becomes a high-flying crook.  But just when things are going well, ‘happenstance’ intervenes.

The Bully...America’s worst serial-killer started out as the neighborhood bully.  He has the perfect way of disposing of his victims.  But long-overdue revenge for his decades-old first killing out in Portland, Oregon brings the saga to an end.

About the Author

David Wigg resides in rural Missouri where he writes fiction and grows vegetables and flowers.  His career includes serving as CEO of an international trading company and a twenty-two-year stint in Washington, D.C., holding positions in the U.S. Intelligence Community, the National Security Council in the White House, and the Department of Defense. He also chaired Political Science and taught American Politics at St. Louis Community College.  His indoor pastimes include playing jazz piano.  His outdoor pastimes include fly-fishing for large trout on a ‘secret’ lake in Colorado.

Contents

INTRODUCTION

PREFACE

IT TAKES ONE TO EAT ONE

TREASON AND SUCCESSION...OH MY!

OMG

IT TAKES ONE TO SAVE ONE

HOME DEFENSE

FOOTSTEPS

MONSTER

DEATH ON THE ROGUE

IT TAKES ONE TO KILL ONE

WHITE HORSE...MAKE A WISH

PAYBACK

THE CANDLESTICK AND THE POLYGRAPH

THE ROBINS

DIGGER

HARD LUCK CHARLIE

IT TAKES ONE TO LOSE ONE

THE BULLY

IT TAKES ONE TO EAT ONE

Anderson Island, September, 2005.  The storm had blown through...it was a beautiful morning.  The setting was beautiful...her life was not.  Eleanor was walking on the beach on the mile-long horseshoe inlet that was part of her family property on Anderson Island on Puget Sound, going back 80 years.  Her classic-abuser husband, Derek, was in front of her, walking on top of the huge logs that had ridden the storm surge onto the beach.  As a child, her parents had warned her not to walk on the new logs, as they tended to be unsteady and could crush a person with a sudden shift.  But she dared not say anything, lest Derek would use it to ‘punish’ her later.

The 400-acre property had been part of her childhood...a piece of the Randall family ‘holdings’, as they were called.  The family was connected to two others whose names were familiar to most Americans over generations...Ketchup, Tobacco, Steel, Rubber and Timber were among the commodities interwoven into the family history, going back centuries.  Nannies, chauffeured vehicles and Swiss boarding-schools...with skiing on fresh powder each morning...peppered the memories of her childhood. 

Keep up, Derek called.  She quickened her pace. As a child, Eleanor was bright, musically-talented and athletic...childhood attributes especially valued among the wealthy.  As the oldest, she was a scratch golfer and unbeatable at tennis.  But as her brothers reached their teens, she was overshadowed by their superior athletic and academic exploits.  As she reached her 20’s, her Vassar and Stanford degrees and college sports accomplishments faded, as her brothers prepared to take up the traditional family positions in finance and business.

In her mid-twenties, with a promising career as a Senior Editor at HarperCollins, family pressure to marry and have children grew intense.  After all, it was what she was ‘supposed to do’, as a ‘Randall female’.  The mandatory family events lost their allure...became stressful.  The looks, the quiet comments, questions and lectures from her mother, all added to her discomfort.

It was ‘almost’ a relief when her father brought Derek home for a long weekend filled with family meals and sports competition at the San Clemente estate.  During her childhood, Eleanor’s father was borderline abusive...certainly ‘overbearing’, by any measure.  The family had always been about the ‘Randall men’, with women in supporting roles. She saw these same traits in Derek from the first...when she beat him at tennis, he gave her a ‘withering’ glare across the net.  He joked about it over dinner, but she picked up on his tone...a hint of menace...her father and Derek...’two peas in a pod’.

In a perfect world, she would have ‘run for the hills’.  But marriage to a ‘so-so’ candidate...he was an attorney (not a partner) with the firm that handled the family’s real estate interests...was preferable as a solution to the constant pressure.  She could continue her career and have a couple of kids...fit in as a ‘component’ in the family ‘machine’.  If only it had worked out that way.

As they made their way along the beach, a family of killer whales surfaced out in the open water of the Sound, looking for lunch and having some fun.  In the early 1950’s, a ten-year-old ‘Ellie’, as she was known in the family, fished near shore for Ling- and Rock Cod, trolled for Silver Salmon, and dug for giant, gooey duck clams along the beach...later to be steamed, covered with butter and devoured.  As the family would sit on the patio at night outside their eight-thousand-square-foot ‘beach house’, the owls that nested in the barn would fly low over their heads, and she would hear the family dogs baying, as they chased deer through the nearby woods.  It was a wondrous place for a youngster...so different from the mainland and its troubles.

It happened so fast, she didn’t really follow it.  Derek seemed to collapse in a pile of logs and started screaming.  At first, horrified, she approached to find him under two huge logs...one pinning his legs and the other across his chest, pinning his arms.  He could still breathe, and his head was propped up by a third log under his neck.

He was in some pain, but he hadn’t been crushed...he was just thoroughly pinned by enormous logs.  She stood looking at him with multiple thoughts...on the one hand, it was terrible, but she stifled an urge to laugh.  The son-of-a-bitch had met his match...and at the family home...perfect.

When she and Derek married, her parents seemed overjoyed.  It was marked by lots of kissing and well-wishing...and a twenty-million dollar home in San Francisco’s most exclusive neighborhood...a nice wedding present. Their honeymoon was spent at a villa in one of Julia Child’s old haunts...Cap d’Antibes, along France’s Cote d’Azur.  They travelled up and down the coast, eating and drinking the finest food and wine France has to offer. 

They met up with the family yacht in Nice and toured the Mediterranean with family and friends.  Derek was loving and thoughtful, but she sensed it was somehow synthetic.  The first time it happened, she was taken by surprise.  They had been back in San Francisco about a week.

It came so fast, she didn’t see it coming.  They had returned from their first social event after their honeymoon...a dinner party at her cousin’s.  His fist caught her square in the top of her stomach...she fell to her knees...couldn’t breathe.

If you ever show that much cleavage again, you’ll have a ‘painful’ accident.  I won’t be humiliated by having other men stare down my wife’s dress...ever!  It was just the beginning.  A few days after the ‘punch’, they were looking for an address in the Mission District.  Derek drove for several blocks without stopping.  Shouldn’t we stop and ask directions?  He backhanded her across the mouth.  Don’t you ever challenge me again!  They never did find the address, but she was silent on the way home, tasting blood in her mouth.

Eleanor was confused and frightened.  ‘Did rich people have these kinds of problems?  Should she try to leave him and get her dad to handle a divorce?’

She met her mother for lunch and brought up the subject.  Derek has hit me twice and he abuses me verbally if I express an opinion on anything.  He hit me in the mouth and I told people at work I had bumped into a door.  I’m not sure they believed me.

Her mother looked uncomfortable...took a sip of her ‘very dry’ martini...Ellie, as you’ve been taught all your life, the Randall’s keep their personal lives personal.  You need to work it out with Derek.  He’s probably under some stress and is taking it out on you.  If you tell him to stop, I’m sure he’ll be reasonable. I wouldn’t mention it to your father.  He’s quite fond of Derek, and it could create some problems in the family that might not be to your benefit.

Eleanor felt anger and shock at her mother’s words, but she choked her hostile response down with a gulp of her Long Island iced tea.  She knew the Randall name was a ‘brand’ and an ‘institution’ and marital problems of any of the family members would generate bad press.  Still, if you can’t get sympathy from your mom...  She decided to talk it out with Derek and see what happened.

When she brought it up after dinner, he stiffened and grew distant.  Look, I’m under some stress at work and, once in a while, my emotions get the best of me.  It’s not a pattern or anything.  Nothing more was said, but he insisted on aggressive sex that night, whether she wanted it or not.

When Eleanor and Derek were married, the family’s personal attorney, Millard Fremont, had Derek sign the family’s traditional prenuptial paperwork, cutting-out Derek from any sizeable part of the family’s assets...although he would be well-provided-for in any event.  This was a sore point and, he had asked her on occasion, if they could change the arrangement so he could become her true ‘partner’, rather than just the hired help.  Eleanor thought maybe changing the financial picture could serve as leverage for her in the rest of her marriage.  She decided to speak to Millard to see what could be done.

Over lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf, Fremont explained Eleanor’s options.  As the beneficiary of one-third of the family estate, with her share valued at approximately ten billion dollars, she was free to share her trust fund benefits with her spouse.  It could be done informally...she could simply give Derek money...or formally...the language in the trust documents allowed for Derek potentially, to become an equal partner in Eleanor’s share of the family trust...if she were to sign away her exclusive right to the trust assets.  Fremont urged her to think ‘very carefully’ before changing her long-standing financial arrangements.

Eleanor thought it over and decided to give Derek a ‘down-payment’ on a share of the trust-income and asset-management responsibility.  She instructed their chef to prepare Derek’s favorite dinner...cold cucumber soup, rack of lamb, the Four Seasons’ recipe for Crown of Vegetables and ‘Banana’s Foster’ for dessert.  She uncorked a 1966 Chateau Margaux to accompany the main course and a Hungarian Peach Brandy for dessert.

Derek loved the dinner, but he was ‘underwhelmed’ at Eleanor’s offer...so, you’re offering me a few crumbs to soften me up?  Look, if you want to be ‘anal retentive’, that’s your choice.  But don’t expect me to bow and scrape and kiss your feet.  Three months later, she caved and signed away her exclusivity.  It worked for awhile...he did seem to appreciate her commitment to their partnership. 

But it didn’t last.  Derek began to dominate their financial decision-making, and before long, Eleanor was the junior partner in dealings involving her vast wealth.  Eleanor’s brothers and father seemed comfortable with Derek as a player in family dealings.  Before long, she was not regularly consulted when sizeable transactions were undertaken.

Eleanor gave birth to two boys, Reade and Phillip, who were quickly monopolized by their father and spoiled by her parents.  The boys loved their mother, but the extended family’s tradition of male dominance reinforced their sense of entitlement, relegating Eleanor to a ‘supporting role’ as the ‘loyal Randall wife and mother’...an all-too-familiar role going back generations in the powerful family’s history.  Worst of all, they idolized their Uncle Shane.

Eleanor’s relationship with her youngest brother was never good.  She was ‘old school’, with traditional values and a strong sense of family.  Shane was, well, a ‘hippy’, who distained American values and thought the family traditions a joke.  He was reckless, rude and extremely arrogant...nothing like his namesake played by Alan Ladd, in the 1953 Western, ‘Shane’. 

Worse, her father worshipped Shane...he could do no wrong.  He was very bright and bold, but only the family advisors kept him from committing epic mistakes.  Wealth covers a lot of sins. The worst part was that Derek and Shane had become quite close...their personalities were similar.  It was a recipe for trouble that would eventually prove disastrous for Eleanor.

On a Saturday, in June, 1985, the ‘disaster’ began to unfold.  Eleanor had just finished a tennis lesson at the family’s estate in Palm Springs when the Estate Manager approached, tears in his eyes.  It seemed the family Leer Jet had crashed on approach to Palm Springs Airport.  Eleanor’s parents, her brother, Peter, and his wife and kids were all killed instantly.

The tragedy and funeral received an enormous amount of press.  By the time it was over, the media had elevated the family to ‘icon’ status, almost...but not quite...like that of the Kennedy’s.  Derek and Shane became the ‘poster-boys’ for the new generation of Randall’s.  Eleanor was all but invisible...one more female Randall in fashionable black clothes and veil.  When the dust settled, the two men had seized complete control of the family business and financial empire and Eleanor’s two boys were being groomed for future power positions in the family enterprise.

By this time, Derek’s abuse had become institutionalized...well-placed punches and violent physical threats, withering psychological campaigns, name-calling and demeaning insults and total control over her financial and day-to-day affairs.  Eleanor’s sons grew up watching their father turn their mother into a punching bag and family joke...a ‘nobody’, beneath contempt.  As youngsters, they were terrified by their father’s ‘moods’ and sympathetic of their mother’s plight.  But, over the years, their empathy turned to disappointment with her inability to defend herself and, finally, to sharing their father’s contempt.

Eleanor’s ‘defense’ consisted of ever-heavier drinking and bouts of depression, treated with mood-altering drugs and pain-killers.  From time to time, she checked herself into clinics to both dry out and to seek respites from Derek’s abuse.  On more than one occasion, emergency-room doctors questioned her explanations for severe bruising and broken bones.  But the Randall family name was sufficient intimidation to block further intervention.  Her wealth turned from a wonderful asset into a nightmare-prolonging liability.

In May, 1996, Derek and the two boys were climbing Mt. Hood, an eleven-thousand-foot peak in the Oregon Cascades, East of Portland.  Since they were youngsters, Derek had pushed the boys to press their limits...to take physical risks.  They had become daredevils in a variety of outdoor pursuits.  Until the Mt. Hood climb, a few broken bones were the only costs incurred.  As they crossed the snow bridge near the peak, Reade slipped on the ice and, knocking into his brother, both young men fell about two thousand feet into a crevasse...both were killed instantly.

For both parents, the heartbreak was unbearable.  The boys were stars...the future of the Randall line.  For a few weeks, Derek and Eleanor actually consoled each other...it was hopeful.  But then, Derek got drunk and decided his wife was, somehow, to blame for the boys’ deaths.  If she hadn’t ‘coddled’ them as children, they would have been more resilient.  Eleanor wondered how ‘resiliency’ could have spared them their fate, but decided not to press the point and prolong this round of abuse.

After that, they didn’t spend much time together...to what end?  Derek, along with Shane, was running a large business and financial empire, and Eleanor, since retiring from Harper Collins, could stay in any one of twenty-five family properties around the world.  But in September, 2005, Derek was meeting Eleanor so she could sign papers moving substantial assets and cash within the Randall Empire.  They agreed to meet at the Randall Compound on Anderson Island in Puget Sound.

After leaving the mainland, near Steilacoom, Washington, the ferry stopped first at McNeil Island, which housed the Federal Penitentiary best known for incarcerating tax cheaters.  It then, cruised on to Anderson Island, about twenty-five minutes away.  It was sunny when Derek pulled off the ferry and drove across the relatively small island to the Randall compound.  He had only been there once before.  He preferred warmer weather and babes in bikinis for his leisure time at the beach.

Once the business was done the two attorneys who had accompanied them departed with the paperwork.  Now that summer was over, the isolated Compound was eerily quiet.  The entire staff was on vacation, leaving only the two of them.  Eleanor suggested they walk on the beach...hence, their current predicament.

Derek was more angry then afraid.  This couldn’t happen to a man of his importance.  He ordered Eleanor to go get help...and be quick about it.  Eleanor looked at him for a long time...finally saying:  Ok, I’ll go.  After the half mile walk to the house, she mixed and consumed a Long Island Iced Tea, made a life-altering decision and walked back. She told him she hadn’t called for help.  Derek was furious.

What in the hell do you think you’re doing?  I need someone to get these fucking logs off me, so go make the call!  I will make you pay for this!

Eleanor just looked at him.  You’ll make me pay...hmm.  For the first time since my dad brought you to San Clemente, you’re helpless.  You can’t bully your way out of this and you, sure as hell, can’t make me pay.

Derek looked at her with true hate in his eyes.  When I’m free, I’m going to enjoy beating you to a pulp...and I mean a pulp!

She sat on a log and crossed her legs, lacing her hands on her knee...So then, how is it in my interest to help you get free?

He looked at her with incredulity...what are you saying?  Go get help or, so help me God, I’m going to kill you.

Good luck with that.  From where I sit you aren’t able to take a piss, let along kill anybody.

His face grew dark red.  So help me...

Oh, shut up, you pompous asshole.  It seems to me you aren’t in much of a position to threaten anyone, so just shut up, ok?"

He stared...his mouth hung open.

You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to go get some lunch and bring it back, so you can keep up your strength; how about a couple of tuna sandwiches and potato chips?

Ok, I am hungry.

She walked back to the house, made some lunch and returned to Derek.    I’ll feed you, since your arms are pinned.

She fed him, even giving him several sips of an excellent craft beer from a Seattle brewery.  When he had finished eating and drinking, he looked at her with his best imitation of contrition.  Ok, so now will you please go get some help?

I think we should talk first.  You need to turn over complete control of the Randall Family Empire to me.  What do you say?

You miserable, rotten bitch.  When I’m done with you, you’ll spend the rest of your life eating through a straw and shitting into a colostomy bag...that’s what I say.

Well, guess what Derek?  I was only kidding about the Empire.  I don’t give a ‘rat’s ass’ about money, because I have something better...you, helpless on a beach, where, in about an hour, the tide will start coming in.

His eyes narrowed...What the fuck are you talking about?

I spent many a week up here when I was a kid.  I know the tides without even looking at a chart.  In about four hours, the water will be up to your chest...it won’t go above your neck, but it’s pretty cold, anyway.

Derek’s color changed from red to white.  You can’t leave me here with the tide coming in...its illegal.  If you don’t help me, I’ll file charges against you and have your sorry ass thrown in jail!

There would be more dignity in it if you would appreciate the position you’re in.  You can threaten all you want...like you’ve been doing since the first day I met you.  But the threats are silly...pointless.  You aren’t going anywhere, pal, so why don’t you just shut-the-fuck up!

Derek’s face began to sag.  For the first time, fear crossed his face.  Eleanor, please, you can’t do this to me.  It isn’t fair...I mean what kind of person would let another person suffer like this?

I’ve asked myself that same question for the last thirty years and I think I finally have an answer.  You are the meanest, dirtiest, most low-down son-of-a-bitch...the biggest fucking  asshole...oh man, I can’t even think of all the swearwords I want to call you.  And that doesn’t even begin to make me feel better.  But, when the tide comes in, I think I will begin to feel a whole lot better, you miserable piece of shit.

Derek was speechless.  His predicament was beginning to register through his anger, and fear crept into his brain.  His voice had become more of a squeak:  I run one of the biggest businesses in America.  This can’t happen to me.  Derek began to scream for help.

There was no one within two miles who could hear him, but Eleanor stuffed a large piece of seaweed in his mouth to shut him up...just in case.  She then, removed his shoes and socks, shredded his pants with her pocket knife and nicked his feet and legs in a couple of dozen places.  Blood oozed from the cuts.  Then, she went back to the house, mixed a delicious Wild Turkey on the rocks and grilled a rib eye steak,