Dangerously Innocent: Peacefully Guilty

By Carla Schardein

Cheryl is a high school student brimming with rage and drowning in fear. She is a victim of a vicious attack by a highly respected business acquaintance of her father. The death threats become all too real and Cheryl is coerced and cornered into planning murder. The perfect murder plan materializes and she is ready.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665735346

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Copyright © 2023 Carla Schardein.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3533-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3534-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022923124

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/12/2022

CONTENTS

Chapter 1The Dangers of Innocence

Chapter 2Is Adulthood Equivalent to Freedom?

Chapter 3Apprehension in an Unfamiliar World

Chapter 4Experience it and it Becomes Real

Chapter 5Candy Apple Red 1966 Mustang

Chapter 6You Can’t Be Brave if You Have Never Had to Be.

Chapter 7School Seems Hard Then Comes Everyday Life

Chapter 8Not All Education Comes Out of a Book

Chapter 9Adult Life 101, No Textbook Available

Chapter 10Best Way to Get a Job Done is to Just Do It

Chapter 11Society Does Not Have All the Answers

Chapter 12Adults Harbor Mysteries Called Secrets

Chapter 13Evil Has a New Name

Chapter 14I’ll be ok, but it might not happen today

Chapter 15Master of Terrorization

Chapter 16Innocence Has No Power If You Lose It, but Anger Has Immense Power When You Use It

Chapter 17Hippies, Protests and Canada

Chapter 18Be Courageous and Fearless in the Midst of Suffering

Chapter 19We Cannot Change Everything Around Us, but We Can Change Ourselves

Chapter 20Preparation and Plotting and Scheduling makes a Flawless Plan

Chapter 21The Plan Included Fear, Fortitude, Determination, and Assassination

Chapter 22The Unfamiliar Will Become the Boring Norm by Sheer Repetition if you Think It Often Enough.

Chapter 23Torture and Brutalization Must End Tonight

Chapter 24Solving a Problem is Harder than Creating a Problem

Chapter 25Once the Burden is Lifted, Don’t Pick it Up Again

Chapter 26Life Marches Onward Backwards Never an Option

Chapter 27Forget the Past and Let Your Future Take Hold

Chapter 28You Never Know How Important People are In Your Life Until They are No Longer In it

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CHAPTER 1

THE DANGERS OF INNOCENCE

Saturday Afternoon Mid 1960"s Las Vegas, Nevada

It had become a Saturday afternoon tradition, that the seven of us meet on my shady front lawn and discuss life, the way we hoped, dreamed, and imagined it would soon become.

We thought we knew all about life, after all we would be high school seniors next fall and soon off into the world to experience adult life under our own power. Yet, we welcomed with childlike anticipation, that we would be making our own decisions and be solely accountable and responsible for those decisions. The true masters of our own fate, so we thought. We were not children any longer, our first decision, and we felt entitled to our new position in life. Overconfident.

But of course, we knew nothing about the reality of life, we were as sheltered by innocence as we were shaded now by the trees we sat under. Blissfully unaware of the dangers and perils that lie just ahead of us. Delightfully naive to the fact that no one is solely the master of their own fate, that every decision and action affects the next everchanging move on the game board of our lives. Our world was comfortable and protected at seventeen, as maybe it should be. Knowing the real world outside the controlled peacefulness of our young lives, may have made it undesirable, too frightening to face the future. We start adulthood ill-equipped; it is trial and error, and you can’t turn back once you cross a threshold or once you make a move on the gameboard. No turning back.

Marley, Marlene Krushinski, was usually the first to arrive, and this Saturday was no exception.

She arrived in her grandmother’s 1965 Chevrolet Impala. Marley was dressed in her usual casual attire that was unique in the 60’s for a girl, a man’s plaid shirt, cut off jean shorts, sandals and always on weekends a baseball cap. I was sure she chose the cap to rein in her fuzzy out of control, coffee-brown hair. Marley never wore makeup of any kind, she would rather have eaten dirt than apply make-up to her face, she didn’t shave her legs or armpits, she believed God made her that way and that is how she would stay. Her broad smile flashed her huge horse- like teeth. I had thought before that Marley could have bitten through an apple in its entirety with absolutely no effort.

Marley and I had been friends since grade-school. We were the two of our odd little group that were native to Las Vegas. We had attended Halley Hewitson Elementary and Roy Martin Junior High, where my younger sister now attended ninth grade. Next fall we would be high and mighty seniors at Rancho High School.

Vegas girls born and raised. Proud of it.

Hey Cher Marley called as she parked the car in front of my house, and strolled across the lawn toward me. Marley called me Cher instead of Cheryl, and I liked it because Sonny and Cher were gaining popularity with their songs on the radio, and I liked their music, I Got You Babe being my favorite.

Did you drop your Grandma Joyce at The Golden Nugget for bingo again? I asked. Gives you a chance to drive that cool car.

Marley lived with her grandmother on a horse ranch at the foot of Sunrise Mountain, her parents had been killed in a car crash on the Tonopah highway when Marley was twelve. The Tonopah Highway was nicknamed the widow maker due to so many fatal crashes on that stretch of desert highway that had an unposted unwritten Reasonable and Prudent speed limit reputation. The road was flat and straight, it was not unusual for people to exceed 100 miles per hour. Many drag races happened there in the dark of night.

Yep, and I really like cruising down Bonanza hill in that car, and everyone looking at me, a kid, driving that car! She flashed that toothy smile my way. Remind me, I have to pick up Grandma at 4:30, she has a new horse being delivered to the ranch at 5:30. A Pinto, 3-year-old, broken in and ready to ride.

You ever gonna teach me to ride? You have been promising, time to pay up. I reminded her. And weren’t you gonna teach me to target shoot too?

Yes, and yes. This Pinto would be a great horse to learn on, we’ll do it. She said.

We heard music coming from down the block, and both said at the same time,

Allen is coming I had better bring an ashtray out. I added.

Allen Andrews, with auburn wavy-hair was a quiet shy guy. He usually spoke only when spoken to first and seldom made eye contact with anyone. If he spoke to anyone voluntary it would be Gerry. You could bet on three things when it came to Allen, he would be chewing Double Bubble gum, his pockets were full of matches that he would strike one at a time and let burn down to his fingers, and his transistor radio would be blasting. Today it was Kicks by Paul Revere and the Raiders we could hear loud and clear. Walking next to him was Scotty Larsen.

Scott Larsen, always smiling and polite, probably learned that from dealing with customers at his father’s restaurant. Scotty worked after school, Saturday nights and all-day Sundays, serving food, bussing tables, and cleaning up at closing time.

The strict hours didn’t leave Scotty time for homework which led to struggles with his grades. When the report cards arrived in his mailbox, he would try to intercept them before his parents could read them. He tried changing a grade once, using a typewriter, making an F look like a B, but to his dismay it didn’t fool his dad and Scotty had been grounded from our Saturday tradition for two weeks. He had to work all day Saturday at the restaurant instead, which didn’t make sense to me.

I went into the house to get a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of brownies and an ashtray for Allen’s matches. Mom always had a snack ready for us. Thanks Mom, I said as I gathered up the treats. I balanced the plate of brownies on top of the pitcher, and put a stack of Tupperware tumblers under my arm, an ashtray in my pocket.

Let me get the door for you. Mom said as she got out of her favorite chair, that was strategically placed next to the telephone. She crushed out her Pall Mall cigarette and almost stumbled over our dog Yogi who was happiest when he was underfoot. Yogi, my little Skye Terrier was always happy. The only time I ever heard him bark angrily was when he chased a rat that had been hiding behind the trash cans, and then he sounded fierce for a ten-pound dog. Dad named him after Yogi Berra, the baseball great. Dad was a die-hard baseball fan

My Mom, Fern Sheridan, worked for the Atomic Energy Commission. She was in charge of hiring workers for the Nevada Test Site out in the desert at Jackass Flats, Area 25. It was rumored that the Government tested nuclear- bombs, exploding them above ground and below ground to record the destruction and radiation information. Mom never spoke of her work I assumed it was classified.

It must have been a difficult stressful job, as she had trouble sleeping and spent the week-ends trying to catch up on her rest. Most week nights she had to take a sleeping pill just to get to sleep.

Ellis Sheridan, my dad, was self-employed. He owned the largest furniture store in Las Vegas, Sheridan’s Fine Furniture. He worked seven days a week, as he had told me, you can’t close even on Sundays. Sundays are when families come in to buy new living room furniture. Las Vegas being a twenty-four-hour, seven day a week city, it made sense to me. Most of his income however was made in large scale furniture sales to the hotels and casinos when they remodeled or redecorated. He would then buy the used furniture back for pennies on the dollar and sell it in his used furniture store, Fern’s Furnishing’s, named after my mom and located in a different location than the up-scale furniture store. Business man was my dad’s middle name, I had heard his friend’s remark.

When I returned to the front yard, the whole gang was there. Marley jumped up to help me with the treats, she passed around brownies and served as I poured.

Gerald Simons (Gerry), Pamela Rodgers (Pammy), and Linda Johnson had arrived while I was gathering lemonade and brownies. I saw Gerry’s bike parked in the driveway behind my Dad’s Winnebago motor home, when I came back out.

We sat in our usual places and took gulps of lemonade to refresh ourselves from the desert heat. Marley set next to me. Linda and Scotty of course next to each other, so they could touch hands and gaze into each other’s eyes when they didn’t think anyone was watching. But we were watching.

Linda Johnson was the oldest child in her family of six children. Her parents both worked at one of the oldest and outermost hotels on the Strip. Her parents’ jobs were in jeopardy however as the hotel, The Cowboy Ranch, was destined for demolition this summer, to make room for a new high-rise hotel and casino. Linda on occasion, had to help out as a room service maid, due to the fact that the manager did not want to hire new employees with the demolition pending. The owner had grand plans for the new casino resort property.

Pammy sat on her towel that she always brought so that she didn’t get any grass stains on her fancy clothes, she always dressed in the latest fashion.

Allen and Gerry sat listening to music. Allen, blew a big bubble, popped it, and respectfully turned off his radio half way through Let’s Hang On by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. He glanced up into the sky then started with the lighting of his matches.

Ok Boss, Gerry said as he looked at me, What is our topic of conversation today? Do you have one in mind? Last week you mentioned we may start having topics to discuss. I also thought that was an interesting concept.

As a matter of fact, I do, Mr. Senator. I curtly replied back. Gerry smiled at that nomenclature as he had dreams of becoming a U.S. Senator one day. His father, an attorney, was a senior partner in the law firm of Simons, Layton, and Tayler. Gerry sat up straight and bowed his head at me. He was a tall, dark, handsome bookworm, smartly dressed, complete with polished black dress shoes, short combed hair with a touch of Aqua Net hair spray to keep it Piercing brown eyes and a perfectly petrified smile on his face, he was almost a Senator already.

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CHAPTER 2

IS ADULTHOOD EQUIVALENT

TO FREEDOM?

Ok, let’s face it guys, the fact that we are headed quickly into our adulthood phase of life. I for one, feel excited and energized for my future. It feels like freedom to me, even though my future is somewhat already focused toward being the manager of my father’s thriving furniture business, not exactly by choice. But, you know, I will be my own person, have my own money to buy whatever I want, get my own place, come and go when I want, do what I want. No worries whatsoever. It sounds like happiness, and I like it. I let the words sink in to my audience, then added, What do you want for your futures? I felt it was a very adult topic.

Gerry was of course, the next to speak, cleared his throat and took control.

As you already know, I am going to be a United States Senator, Senator Gerald Simons from Nevada. Doesn’t that sound influential and important? After graduation next year, I will attend law school. I have already looked into a few schools and I will apply soon as I don’t want to be drafted and sent to Vietnam. I heard on the news that the draft call has increased tenfold over last year. By the way, there is an anti-war protest today on the courthouse lawn we should go check it out later, anyway eventually I want to be like our Nevada Senator Howard Cannon. I met him once, well, almost, when Dad and I were at the Courthouse downtown, Senator Cannon was coming up the stairs as Dad and I were headed down. We said hello to each other. Gerry proudly announced. That’s almost meeting him.

I acknowledged him by saying, And I know you will be a distinguished senator Gerry, I have no doubt. I will vote for you. Doesn’t it feel good to have your future planned? You know where you are headed and how to prepare.? Very adult like.

Pammy went next, My future is planned too. I am signed up already to enter the Miss Las Vegas parade next month. She adjusted her bleached blonde bouffant flip hairdo, and wiped at the corner of her mouth to assure that her glossy, thickly applied, Passionate Pink lipstick was not seeping out of place.

I want to wear a tiara and win the crown. We parade all the way down Fremont Street from the Pioneer Club to the Showboat Casino, you know, it’s a wonderfully grand parade. I get to ride in a Corvette convertible, with one of the owners of the Four Queens casino! Thousands will be watching. You all have to come; I will wave to you. She wiggled and giggled with happiness. She took a compact mirror from her pink purse, opened it, and checked her expertly eye-lined eyes and mascaraed eyelashes, smiled at herself, closed the compact and put it away.

Linda blurted out at Pammy. That’s it? That is your future? What job will you look for? College in your grand plan? What about getting married, and babies, don’t you want babies? I want to get married after graduation and start a family, I want babies, maybe five or six! I want to buy a house that has a big garage, remodel it, and make a baby-sitting business, maybe call it Linda’s Childcare Corral. You know Pammy, women are blessed with that special gift of growing a living person inside of us, children are our future. There is big money to be made in childcare. Life is not all about how you look and if your lipstick is smeared or not.

Scotty shifted slightly in his crossed legged position, almost unnoticeably.

Pammy retorted abruptly. Oh, good God No! No babies for me ever! They ruin your figure and make you fat! And ugly! I don’t want to be fat and ugly! I don’t want stretch marks on my stomach, saggy boobies and butt the size of Montana!

We all just held our breath; Linda was a sizeable hefty girl who liked to cook and eat what she cooked. We waited for either tears or outrage, but neither came.

Linda shook her head in disbelief, her eyes narrowed into slits, she could not fathom that someone would not want babies. It was incomprehensive to her. She took Scotty’s hand and squeezed it, to aid her in controlling her inner rage.

Allen sat quietly, striking match after match and watching the flame, tossing the spent matches in the ashtray, at one point, he almost lit his red t-shirt on fire. No one expected Allen to speak of his future, and he didn’t. He readjusted his blue baseball cap chomped on his bubble gum and looked up into the sky again.

I needed to break the silence and tension quickly.

Next up is you, Scotty. What are your plans as you head into the future? Going into business at the restaurant with your dad? I bet you are a good cook. I thought that might be why Linda was so fond of Scotty, but I did not voice that. I tried to make the shift back into conversation easier for Scotty.

Scotty looked up but his usual big smile was absent.

Yea, I guess I almost have to, my grades are in the toilet, so college is out of the question. I would like to be a country-western singer, but no time to practice on my guitar, so that’s out too, might as well sell the damn thing. Yea, I’ll work at the restaurant, probably be there till I die. Scotty’s voice was sad, without hope, and void of happiness. Linda squeezed his hand to aid him through his sadness.

OK I said. Once again, I needed to redirect the emotions of this gathering. I was definitely questioning my choice of topic. This cloud of emotion had never shrouded us like this before maybe having topics was not such a great idea.

Bad choice for topic, I thought. Too profound. Maybe we were not ready to think that far ahead. But we should be thinking of our futures, shouldn’t we?

While I was thinking of what to say, a black and white police car drove slowly past the house. Two officers in it looked at our gathering with interest. We heard sirens in the distance. Allen looked up into the sky.

Marley, how about you? I could depend on Marley to redirect the conversation.

Marley flashed the toothy smile. Well, I will run the horse ranch, I want to raise horses. Maybe start a riding stable, teach kids to ride, set up a barrel racing arena. Maybe even have full-fledged rodeos! She went on with an explanation.

When my grandpa died, he left my grandma financially set, so money is not a worry. My Grandma Joyce and I are perfectly happy on the ranch. Yep, I want to raise horses and host rodeos. When you ‘all have kids bring ‘em out to learn to ride and rope."

Linda chimed in How about getting married and having your own kids Marley?

Marley took time to think before she replied to Linda. Not in the stars for me.

I was thinking of another thing to say before Linda took off on the marriage and babies thing again and reared up Pammy’s viewpoint on the subject. I noticed something in the sky over the row of houses behind us. I pointed to spirals of smoke rising in the sky. The next thing we knew fire trucks and police cars with sirens blaring and lights flashing were headed down Bonanza hill, one street over, in the direction of the smoke. We all looked toward the smoke that was now, black billows. I went in the house to tell my mom; she came out with me to look.

Allen stood up quickly, his eyes were alive with excitement. Wow, a fire! Cool! I’m gonna go watch the old shack burn. See ya later. Allen was picking up unused books of matches and his transistor radio, when the police car pulled up and two officers got out. Allen started to run, but one of the officers, a red-faced bulky man, caught him by the back of his shirt, and threw Allen to the ground, twisting his arm behind him and grinding his face in the grass.

Red hair, red shirt, blue cap, male, approximately sixteen to eighteen years old. You asshole, fit that description and I see you have your very own matches.

The stout bulky officer smiled, but it was dripping with sarcasm and disdain. He yanked Allen upright and bellowed into his face, saliva flying from his mouth with each word. Did you torch that building, you fucking little pyromaniac punk?

The other officer, a female spoke in a measured tone, in the direction of Allen and the angry male officer.

Officer Robert, keep in mind he is a person of interest only, and innocent until proven otherwise.

Officer Robert did not acknowledge her advice.

Allen hawked out his gum, snapped at Officer Robert, who continued to wrench his arm. I didn’t hurt anyone, it was just an old dilapidated piece of shit shack, no one lived there. I didn’t kill anyone. I did the city a favor by getting rid of it!

Officer Robert retorted. Yea, a real obliging citizen! and forcefully ushered Allen to the police car, threw him in the backseat and slammed the door.

The young female officer walked up to my mother and spoke softly. I watched her approach my mother, the officer did not wear a gun, nor was she the driver of the police car. I got the feeling that she was not the officer in charge, merely an addition to the male officer who was proudly wearing a gun and brashly in charge.

I am Officer Willows, she said a she extended her hand toward my mother, I am with the Las Vegas Police Department, Juvenile Division. We had a report of a juvenile male fitting the description of this young man, seen running from an abandon building over on 25th Street, and that building is now engulfed in flames. We are going to take him to the station for questioning.

Should I call his parents, Officer? My mom asked nervously.

The police will take care of contacting his parents. Thank you.

Officer Willows turned, acknowledged all of us with a quick smile, went to the car, got in with Officer Robert and Allen.

The police car drove off with Allen. Allen was gone.

To say we were dumbstruck may have been an understatement. No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity, we looked from one to the other in stunned disbelief.

We looked to where Allen had been sitting, we saw his spent pile of matches, we saw the ashtray heaped with burned empty matchbooks, we saw his drink glass laying on the grass empty. I felt empty.

We may not see Allen for quite some time, Gerry said, breaking the speechless silence. "If he is guilty, arson is a serious charge. Property damage will have to be assessed, and hopefully no one was actually in that building. Fire investigators will sort through the burned remains of the structure and assess the cause and point of ignition. It looked abandoned, the windows were all broken out and the door boarded up. I hope no one was inside for Allen’s sake. He actually confessed, as he knew it was that shack before the police even asked