To Kill or Not to Kill is Not in Question

By Evert "Kip" Veenendaal

Family head Angelica arrived with her sisters, determined to become the exclusive provider of illegal drugs up and down the eastern American coast. But negotiations with mafia families do not go smoothly. Successful hitman Dan is recruited to intervene. He prides himself on his professional ability to not be connected to any killings. His marriage later in life as a cover becomes a liability when his wife becomes a suspect in several nursing home deaths.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9780228883869

Evert "Kip" Veenendaal

I am a graduate of Western University School of Social Work and the Stratford School of Nursing. I was the assistant editor for the Journal of Systemic Therapy and am retired. I spent my career working with families dealing with all aspects of human behaviour. I was raised in a border town where many stories were told of illegal activities which always captured my imagination.

Book preview

Dan

1

It happened occasionally in the summer while lying in the dark. It was one of those nights where Dan Watkins dreamt about the past which brought the now unusual experience of emotions and smiles. Younger, happier times. They often led to a vivid dream state where Dan thought he could smell the surroundings, the scent of the lake, how one could taste the air, and see the entire scene in vibrant colours. The blues and greens of the lake and the different hughs of the trees throughout the community. It was the only time he truly yearned to stay, knowing it would cause him to become his more sadistic self when it ended. It was one of a very few emotions he had felt in his life when he had been that teenager.

These night thoughts which tempted to trick his mind into a persuasive positive feeling of some sort. It became more difficult to remember the face of the girl he had liked. from afar. There were exceptions. Dan clearly remembered a bra, panty lined thighs showing contrasts of tan line and white skin, and then an nipple. A brief smell of freshly shampooed hair and delicate body parts holding perfume scents.

Other memories of hope had startled and made him afraid. That look given to him as a I think I might be interested.

It amazed him that in this state, his brain also had the ability to exude the mundane smell of items such as fries and sights such as the big steering wheel.

On these nights, Dan Watkins enjoyed these thoughts, but he reverted quickly to his dominant intellectual thinking because emotions, which he was incapable of having and hadn’t had since his youth, scared him.

In the dark, he could envision the drab earth tone of the painted bedroom and the two prints on the wall. One was a farm scene and the other a bouquet of flowers. Both had hung long enough that Jean could not remove the film of dust that permanently covered them. He should have left earlier in his marriage. But, the nature of his business meant that drab inconspicuous scenes were best with the work he enjoyed, work that was difficult to retire from, and included long periods of down time. Nights like this calmed him and helped tolerate his dreary home lifestyle.

He tried not to look at her as he felt it infringed upon his private life.

He was not to be deterred and once again slumbered returning to a youthful time. Back to a mild summery Saturday evening in July in the early 1960’s. He had turned sixteen and had his dad’s car. It was a used 1957 Ford Fairlane. Yellow and white with long tail fins accentuated by big round red tail lights, two doors, low and sleek. He rolled down the windows both front and back, and as he drove, Dan knew people turned heads to look.

The town of Sarnia is situated on the mouth of Lake Huron, one of the great lakes. It was an industrial town but on a summer night it felt more like a happy beach vacation sight while attempting to obscure the brown-air-filled industrial nature of the town. To many locals the town persistently felt on the edge of conflict. The air was soft and water-scented, mildly blowing from the west, preventing the factory smells to the south.

It was a night perfectly made for cruising, Left elbow hanging out the window. Not too fast, cruising the entire main strip south, which on the far end led to a local fast food drive in. A establishment which advertised fast food specialties unknown by outsiders, so each selection had a explanation. Drive through the drive in and then cruise back in the other direction ending north at the beach.

Dan was on his own as on all nights. He wore his green and white striped button down shirt, the exact same type worn by the Beach Boys, paired with tight blue Jeans with rolled up cuffs and white socks and finalized with the popular brown penny loafers accentuated with a penny in each. He had bathed and had his weekly shave. His hair was held in a blond wave thanks to his greasy, hair-grooming product Vitalis. Dan had cascaded himself with the scent of Brute aftershave. He continued to smoke his filtered Rothman’s hoping to impress. Having leisurely cruised the street several times, eventually, he found a parking spot at the drive in. All in the lot appeared to have the same Detroit station on the radio. Throughout the drive in everyone was singing to the Beach Boys, Little Deuce Coupe. The car radios sounded in joyful unison to the ears of all the youth present. It was if they all felt connected. Some stayed in their cars while others sat on the trunk to view the persistent parade of people passing through in cars. Dan, in his deepest regions believed the song was a good omen because his shirt matched those of the group singing the song.

To the side of each vehicle stood a little post that held a square metal box connected to a wire disappearing into the ground. The box, a speaker, spoke to you in garbled English which Dan understood only because he had replicated this ritual hundreds of times, Can I take your order? One ordered their favourite hamburger with French fries and paired it with swamp water—a concoction of root beer and orange crush which came in a large frosty mug with few ice cubes. A waitress wearing a uniform of matching shirt, pants, and a belt holding a four-tubed chrome change carrier would bring out the order. Many of these girls would sing the radio tunes as they brought the tray, which fit on the side of the car door via two metal protrusions that attached to a slightly rolled-up window.

Throughout his growing adolescence, Dan liked the role of loner. On these Saturday nights he gave the outward appearance of being the same as all the others, wanting to be liked by all. He did have sporadic desires to be with a female physically but had no desire to be with a group. He observed his classmates’ as weak overly emotional reactions to everything and therefore found them boring with little in common with him and realized none of them had any understanding of his views of life.

Some Saturdays he noticed the few cars with girls. He sporadically smiled at them, but would never follow up by approaching for fear they would want to talk. Dan was a young man with physical desires that led to dreams that a girl would approach him and accept all his sexual needs, and he would not have to be afraid of being too awkward or aggressive, which, he knew, led to immediate rejection. By the time he had his license he’d been turned down more than once and each time led to anger and the dream that he would someday meet a girl in some unusual manner. These weekend journeys were opportunities to learn from a comfortable outside view of how life unfolded for the masses. It was the learning that mattered and not his success or failure in the pick up scene.

Dan returned to the present and drifted slowly to sleep with some slight sense of unfulfilled youth but the intellectual understanding that he had convinced himself in those teen years not to embrace emotion in any form. Instead, he was aware of the future that would lead him to a future with only his own satisfaction. A future which satisfied him. Contract which he fulfilled.

Jean

2

Jean rose from a complete nights sleep after having worked seven nights. Morning routine was the same for the past ten years, when together, Jean would ask Dan the same question: How did you sleep? Dan’s answers seldom varied from the word fine. Was it Dan’s secretive work that prompted the frightened safe question or was it a polite statement which spoke more to their tenuous relationship.

After fine, the conversation ended. Jean left and went to the kitchen and Dan followed. Both read the paper and knew which section each read first. Each made their own breakfast. Jean in her frayed full length green housecoat. Her body still appeared firm for a sixty year old woman. Her face showed wrinkles and her hair was colored a brown not showing the grey roots. The last few years Jean had taken fewer shifts at the nursing home. Not obvious she felt the arthritis playing a growing role. She would soon retire. They never spoke directly of retirement. Their marriage of convenience did not allow queries of the future. Marrying Dan had stopped all family inquiries of what was wrong with her still being single. It had not provided the map to daily or future aspects of married life

Dan finished eating and reading the paper and left the table without a word. After dressing in his black suit, came back and kissed her on the cheek, walked out the door past her little station wagon to his black Cadillac.

Jean sat looking at the empty chair across from her. How had they come to this she wondered. She did not dwell on the subject. She had more important thoughts. The Lord was in her foremost thoughts and all others were secondary. When her thoughts were of her faith and all that entailed living with Dan became much less of a disappointment.

Dan

3

The next night Dan Watkins lay in the blissful dark and again smiled to himself as the past patterned memories flooded into his mind.

He was twelve. He was in pain. His drunken father had hit him and with a open hand and then a fist. Blaming him for the mess in the house. He could barely see the room through swollen eyes and felt the blood coming from his lip and nose. He attempted to slink away but told to come back and hit with rolled up newspapter as his fathers hands were too sore. Dan persisted hoping his dad would pass out and in the morning, would either apologize or forget about the night before.

Finally, head aching he had crawled away upstairs to bed as his dad had flopped on the couch, emptying the booze bottle in quick pulls as he watched the news and passed out.

Refuge in a late dark evening with no stars and no moon he lay in his bed in the attic. It was pitch black up there in his room small lights flickering from the tubes in the back of the used radio he had received for his birthday last year. It was August, a Friday night, the house’s rear small protruding bedroom window was open and the smell of lilacs drifted into the room. Dahlias were then considered a must over septic tanks and the placement appeared to help in blooming the bushes the entire summer. A baseball game was being broadcast on the radio. It was the Tigers playing in California. It was well past ten thirty. He fearfully listened with the lights out, laying on the bed holding a bat in the dark. The dark also shrouded him and Dan felt he was not in as much pain if he could not see his own bruises or blood. Dan, through these times, acquired the ability to imagine the entire baseball scene. The field, the fans, the lights most of all the players. Dan saved baseball cards and had many of his favourite players. As players came to bat he could picture what they looked like. He knew which ones smiled and which ones always looked serious.

He could vision their batting stances. He knew which pitchers had a high leg kick. Dan had few friends and baseball was a love and an escape. Dan would stay up late as there was no school the next day. He felt it was a wonderful night, father was passed out and would not come to check on him. On a warm night like that night you did not even have to stay under the covers. He immersed himself completely in the game and imitated the stances while lying on the bed, alone after another evening of threats and a physical beating from his father. His mother had run a few years ago after being beaten for the last time and having a new boyfriend who had promised the world but not including any children.

Finishing a night’s sleep Dan looked in his closet and grabbed that same old baseball bat. He placed the bat in the trunk of the Cadillac. He was not expecting he’d need to use the weapon but it had come in handy for persuasion matters in past contracts, and it was always better to be prepared for any eventuality.

From home, Dan drove to the border and allowed entry to the U.S. Port of entry Port Huron Michigan, a somewhat poor city of 45,000. Canadians came over to shop every day taking advantage of its many diverse products and perceived cheap sales. Over the years, Dan had storied many reasons for entry to the custom officers. Golf, shopping, ball games, hockey games etc. Dan tended to stay for 3 to 7 days and registered in hotels from Detroit to Lansing to Troy. When necessary he had stayed in other states. He had been abroad twice on business. Dan had repeated this routine for years. The major variance in this routine was the entry points to Michigan. There were many border entry points. Dan had not only contracted in Michigan but, Pennsylvania, and New York. For forty years Dan had been coming and going between Canada and the U.S.

Dan quickly arrived at his favourite restaurant bar in Port Huron. A place that has been a constant to many locals since the second world war. It was on the main street close to railway tracks, situated in a less popular side of town. A corner entrance opened onto a bank of red vinyl booths. To the left was a long bar, with more red vinyl fronted below the bar top, and before it, red swiveled bar stools were anchored. Small lights under the front of the bar cast a pale red shadow. Dan took a seat at the bar and ordered his favourite American beer and settled in with a sense of comfort brought about by frequent visits. It was a bar that still had a pay phone in a booth at the back next to the kitchen’s swinging doors. After the first beer Dan ordered another, then entered the booth, closed the door, and dialed a number. The phone on the other end rang four times until someone picked it up. Next the sound of breathing whispered in Dan’s ear and disconnected. Dan sat and waited for a number of minutes and the phone rang.

Dan picked up and said, Is everyone agreeing to the move forward?

An answer from the other end, There may be a need to have a further conversation to ensure agreement. We will contact you in the next while.

Dan returned to his bar stool and waited. An hour later, a man entered the bar and sat beside him. He looked straight ahead, making no eye contact. He ordered a drink and asked for the bill when served. After drinking quickly, he placed a small slip of paper under the money and bill, and left the bar. Dan picked up both. On the slip was a name with a cross enscribed beside it. Dan went to the bathroom, memorized the name, tore the paper into pieces, and flushed.

This ritual had taken place on most occasions during his professional career with some slight variance. No part of Dan ever had anticipating emotions in these moments. His life was completely dominated by intellectual determination. This was the beginning of a termination. Dan did not want to know any more than necessary about the target. Most designated targets had interfered with the smooth working of mafia crime families or connections to theses families, who owed favours to organized crime.

Many years ago, after completing only a few jobs, he had carried out a most dangerous contract that targeted a well-known figure. Jimmy Hoffa which challenged all of Dan’s early skills and required daring and luck. He had been successful, and to this day no one had ever located the body. Due to being very young, Dan had not been aware of the magnitude of the event. The killing and subsequent disposal of the body in a different country had led to his ability to command large sums of money for the contracts which had come his way. Dan knew he was possibly the best in the business. This latest signal once again placed him in the position of the best contract killer in the business.

Dan

4

Dan Watkins registered at the hotel in Troy Michigan. He followed his creed of not staying in the same hotel in any two sequentially directed contracts. He also never registered to acquire points to gain free nights. He was very careful never to leave trails of his visits to hotel chains; therefore, he used local motels whenever possible.

He next found a store which sold fire arms. These were easy to locate as many advertised in the local papers. But, this time he had been directed to complete the transaction organically and quietly. When the godfather had sent him the name, it was encapsulated within the name and cross, which gave directions. The instructions specified how to complete the directive without noise or exerting a show of a violent force that would attract unwanted attention. Success was to make it look like a natural tragic happening. The purchase of the gun was only for back up insurance. Part of the joy for Dan was the sometimes sudden need for a strategic change of plans in the middle of a job. He prided himself in succeeding in those unexpected times and the subsequent explanation to the godfather.

If they had an award show for his industry, he was sure he would have won Best Last-Minute-Change-Of-Plans Hit.

Thank you, thank you very much. I would like to thank my father for his cruelty towards me which helped me become the successful hitman that I am.

Dan knew the contracted target. In the past, he had been on outings with him. They had been associated with the same company and seen each other on business outings on various occasions. This association did not deter Dan, as he never worried that emotion would enter his realm. This was business, and he knew, as he had learned, emotion was a liability. He was a liquidator. A professional who left no trail and began and ended a job in a tidy fashion. He enjoyed his job. He enjoyed the perfection of a good kill.

He found the address of the subject and headed to the man’s home. He drove by the house fronted by the road and in front of that the tree-lined river. After finding the house, Dan toured the neighbourhood. It was a relatively new area. Streets going inland from the river road were clean. The homes substantial with three car garages. Trees had been planted along the streets in the last two years. He could see the back of the target home from a block away as the trees were too small to provide cover showing the business logo above the garage. The house could not be a target area as there were too many open spots where he would be seen. He next drove to the man’s office. Parking across the street he observed and took in all of the building. It was a glass enclosed twelve floor building with security personnel standing in the entrance way as well as two behind glass entrance way sitting behind a desk appearing to look at monitors. The offices were highlighted and in open view from the outside by softly tinted glass stretching on each floor from carpet to ceiling. One could still see the parts of the offices which appeared elegant. The large name of the law firm on the façade of the top floor made it readily aware that the primary inhabitants of the offices worked for a well established, law firm and Dan reasoned that the lawyers enjoyed most of the perks from money made. His target lawyer had been hired in the past for, not so legal clients, who had undoubtedly reimbursed the lawyers with large amounts of laundered money.

Dan spotted his man on the fourth floor sitting at a desk on a corner office which was too open and could not be used as a target site. Dan’s mind went to other sites which could provide easier access for a kill. He knew that he had the ability to find the suitable location with very little effort. The older he became, the more secure he was in his ability and the more difficult it became to get excited at the planning prospect of this job. It was as if these kinds of kills, were becoming rather mundane. Was it that he had completed too many of these common target jobs and now the challenge to successfully complete had become almost as appealing as a factory line job. When had the killing become mundane? He had no answer. He sat in the car and continued to talk to himself. He was determined to make this enjoyable and a good quiet job, as directed, and as with specific requests leave no trail, displaying all his true professionalism.

Dan never asked the godfather’s reasons for the contract. The family appreciated having to give only a few simple instructions and being assured certain success. There was a buyer who dealt with the god father who initiated the contract and contractor. It was understood that over the subsequent years, buyers might be required to perform tasks for the godfather.

Dan was very aware of how business and politics intermingled in Michigan and throughout the United States. He knew his present target would have information that could be bad for the godfather’s buyer as well as other interested parties. In this case, Dan speculated that client confidentiality had likely only been as good as the lawyer’s retainer fees. If someone else paid significantly more for information then leaking gossip might lead to damage and possible ruin.

In the past, one of Dan’s targets, a minister, had preached the gospel for a living, and with a strong gift for speaking, became very wealthy saving souls with the eventual outcome of gaining influence in business and politics. The ministry grew to congregations of twelve thousand and garnered t.v. audiences of possibly millions, which led to many more investments and interests that could have been viewed as not quite Christian. Over the years his increased wealth and power had led to a startling self-awakening resulting in guilt, and a self need to come clean. Through a contract Dan had quickly ended the minister’s need for public confession and led to his untimely natural demise and any contractor connections with the pastor had never been suspected or revealed.

Dan rarely knew how that requester was connected to the godfather. The individual, like all others, worked through the mafia with limited contact with the godfather. Most contact was through an intermediary, who was one of the few people Dan trusted. Luigi, the leader of the family was, the godfather, in all the true sense of the Italian word. Only a few individuals who lived in Sarnia and the local police knew of his true leadership and ultimate power. Dan was sure that officials in Canada and the U.S. knew of him but were unable to prove anything and were wary of moving forward in doing away with Luigi.

For years, the arrangement had proven successful, and Dan had found the ability to weave his way into a sense of belonging to the family without being a family member. He was most proud of keeping out of the limelight and not drawing attention to himself and all the kills he had completed now and to come.

Jean

5

Jean Watkins was at home and glad to be alone and not worry about the right thing to say when Dan was around. In all likelihood he would be gone for a few days. She did not know if a wife could ask and therefore never approached him about when he was coming back. Historically, she had never been with a man for any length of time before she met and married Dan. She’d had no instructions how to be a wife. She had married him as almost a last resort when most around her thought she would never get married. Being a local the marriage had provided a spouse to indicate to the population she was good enough to marry. A short time after the nuptuals it became apparent that Dan wanted to be viewed as a quiet husband who never showed behaviours that would draw attention to himself.

In the early afternoon she started preparing for her next shift at work. She enjoyed the work at the retirement community home. Pastoral Retirement Home had a certain ominous ring to it. Jean knew she was doing the Lord’s work. No, not only nursing but also assisting those who needed to be with God in a, more timely, fashion. Working nights afforded opportunities for her to do the will of God.

She felt she stopped the suffering of the elderly when it was the thing to do. Orders of do not resuscitate were a heavenly green light for Jean. Over the years, she had assisted many to die before the need to follow the do not resuscitate order to a happy afterlife. She constantly told herself she was content she had not gained anything for herself except pride through these acts of kindness. Although, she had kept some small trinkets to remind herself she was fulfilling God’s work with these individuals. Jean showed very little emotion while planning and executing all of her nursing duties. Duties that were always predicated on eliminating suffering. She had come to enjoy the night and the quiet it provided as she went about her nursing and Godly duties. But, Jean did admit to herself that she felt a certain thrill in a planned death. The acts of benevolent saving varied and could involve something as simple as a pillow or a minor overdose of medication or to even a big air bubble in an intravenous tube.

When Dan was home she ritually woke him up after one of those successful mornings and demanded sex. She would then become the instigator and take charge. Dan appeared to like being slapped and ordered. This was quickly followed by a good deep sleep. She did not demand this sexual ritual at any other time.

Jean devoutly attended church every Sunday. Jean deduced that Dan did not believe and never went along to church, and Jean had never requested this of him. In her evangelical church, every one called each other brother or sister. Jean was viewed as a faithful parishioner. As she was a nurse, the congregation saw Jean as a sister who truly followed her calling to help and limit the suffering of the elderly.

At church it was not unusual to hear, Hello sister Jean. I read in the paper that one of the residents died last week. Its a blessing isn’t it that sister Marina no longer suffers and now she is with God.

Sometimes the conversation would become uncomfortable.

It appeared to be rather sudden.

It was unexpected, Jean would say.

Her family said she appeared to be quite bright a few days before, the church member would reply.

Jean’s favourite answer was, God works in mysterious ways.

Jean had never had any real lasting boyfriend until Dan. As she grew older, she believed she was plain and was destined to live out her life by herself.

But her uncles and male cousins had commented early in her development that she did have an ample bosom. Growing up, boys would always stare and want to touch them. Rarely had she stopped this from happening hoping for a long-term boyfriend but it never led to more serious relationships. When she married Dan, she’d initially enjoyed his playing with her breasts. However, in the first year of marriage, he never spoke but would be the first to initiate any sexual play. After a few years, sex appeared only to be initiated by Jean after the death of one of her elderly patients.

The church had been without a minister for quite some time. Sundays had been led by visiting ministers or elders reading a previous sermon but in this last year a fresh new minister had come to the church. Lately, Jean could not help but notice that the new preacher was attractive, younger, and had a very likeable way about him. She also noticed that often he would quickly glance at her cleavage while conversing socially with parishioners after the service. Now when he talked to her, a different vibe was present and she felt some electricity between them which made her tingle.

Their conversations would sound like this:

How are you pastor John?

Sister Jean how are you? It’s always a pleasure to see in church.

I enjoyed your sermon today, especially about forgiving others.

Thank you, sister. You are a member I can count on to understand the deeper meaning of the sermons. You know forgiving others is the only way we can truly forgive ourselves.

Changing the subject Jean said, I heard you have been visiting Pastoral Haven. Will you be returning to visit again?

Yes, but I am sad that I never see you because of your shift hours.

You might consider stopping by later in the evening some night. You could say some bed time prayers with those who would desire the word. I would be happy to accompany you.

Jean blushed as she suddenly felt that she was being too forward.

Pastor John thought a moment and said, I will think on that suggestion.

With the prospect of having personal contact with pastor John causing hope, Jean walked away with a lilt in her step and wended her way home.

Rudy

6

Detective Rudy Gunn sat at the bar sporting his premature white grey hair which flowed over his ears and down his back. He was slim and tall at six foot three. He tended to wear his clothes in a loose fitting manner. His movements and walk could be characterized as slow, smooth and deliberate. He exhibited a powerful, silent presence wherever he was and did nothing to deter the standoffish impression by strangers. When he smiled he reminded people of Tom Petty. Locals did not fear Rudy but they were quietly apprehensive when he searingly looked directly at them as if he knew a dark secret. Some characterized it as the dead cold stare from his steel blue eyes. He did not want to be intimidating and felt that this, his home bar, allowed him not to have any pretenses, although he could send visual cues to all to stay away.

He wore his usual khaki slacks and light blue buttoned chambray shirt. He leaned back in his bar stool comfortably which allowed him a clear view of the patrons around the long narrow, two sided, bar which was open in the middle for the bartender and the on-tap beer spigots. At the far end of the two sides was the entrance to the kitchen. The bar continued at the other end and sat only three. Paper advertising coasters covered by beer bottles or glasses containing liquor and beer sat atop the faux grey marble bar top. The bartender constantly wiped it down, illuminated by the overhead TVs at each corner, which displayed daily sporting events.

Rudy was nursing his third beer and was fortunate to have the ability to drink daily without showing any evidence of a beer gut. He gazed through the window to the outside world, giving the impression he was not really intellectually present.

The bartender approached and said in an irritable voice, Rudy, you need to keep the gun out of the bar. This indicated that he’d had to repeat this same command several times.

This appeared to wake Rudy with a sudden jolt.

I’ll be right back. Rudy left without any comment, went to his car, put the gun in a locked box in the trunk, and returned to the bar. He appeared pensive.

In Sarnia being a homicide detective was almost a misnomer. Due to the lack of many active homicides the job also entailed dealing with everything from minor theft and morality citations such as peeping toms. Sometimes he felt like a bail bondsman as he was also assigned to seek those who did not appear in court when summoned. Rudy longed for job stimulation meaning he had a perverse craving for homicides. He had been a policeman for twenty years. His rather blank face, concealing his depressing thoughts concerning what he now dealt with on a daily basis.

He returned his attention to the narrow bar and the patrons around it. Sunlight streamed in through the glass windows. The establishment was situated at the end