Clayton Navarr has been under the vehemous control of his unasuming mother-in-law for nearly two years. Following the viscious attack and comatose of his wife on Valentines Day, He has been transformed into New York City's most feared, avenging mercenary. When an unexpected run in with a group of Pee Wee Latin Kings Gang members quickly turns into a young child's homicide, NYPD Veteran Detectives pursue their lead suspect, turning up a long string of vigilante events, a family on the brink of insanity, disaster and irreversable infliction haunting Clayton Navarr's own tragic past. All colliding with his newfound redemption alongside his first love Janet, his very wife's younger sister.A whirlwind of action, police pursuits, murder, justice, past histories rehashed and romance all await the final climatic explosion throughout the heart of New York City!
Excerpt
THE STORM BEFORE THE CALM
Dan Tabor
(Dedicated to and inspired by the city that never sleeps, its roaming denizens, protective cops on the beat and underground, red light ladies of the night)
Clayton Navarr suddenly stepped back in repulsed shock after the full view of his attacker hit it’s most uncanny realization. It was just a boy, not looking a day over ten years old, if even that. He stumbled to his knees to puke, but only guilt and the insatiable, throat gripping choke of nausea produced dry heaves and tears. Clayton studied the boy’s innocent face of death and sorrow further.
God, he is young.
He then reached for the slain child’s signature gold and black crucifix necklace identifying his attacker as a pee wee Latin Kings gang member.
Jesus-Fucking-H-Christ!
Clayton snatched the necklace from the bloodied neck where he had smashed in the child’s trachea while defending the attack and pocketed the crucifix. There were three at first who attacked him, but only this youngest one who stabbed him and kept jabbing a small shank into Clayton’s gut after the two other juvenile hoodlums took off running paid the mortal price of being physically inferior.
Clayton rose and then removed the boy’s black satin jacket to fold into a temporary square bandage so none of the other subway travelers would see his bloodied shirt during his commute home. He didn’t think any of the stab wounds went very deep, but the belly of his white New York Yankees t-shirt was completely crimson wet surrounding his abdomen.
Recomposed now, Clayton took one last look at the slain boy he was forced to kill in self defense. His heart filled heavily with remorse for the child’s parents when they are informed of their son being killed on the streets. He then pondered how any parent could allow their small child to be raised into gang violence as if meager thug wealth, belonging to a short lived neighborhood brotherhood and gang banging rewarded anything.
For what? To live almost to see high school and then be buried?
All Clayton was at fault for was walking a side route alone from Yankee stadium in an attempt to beat the stadium packing the closest Bronx subway. He didn’t anticipate two teenage gang members and a pee wee member demanding his wallet along the way.
He felt sick again when finally boarding the subway inside The Bronx’s seldom acknowledged south station near Queens. The late night travelers inside were a strange, but accustomed blend of very rowdy and disgruntled Yankees fans steaming away over those damn Red Sox for knocking their baseball gods out of the ALCS at home during a miracle game nine comeback. Other sullen, reclusive and manically depressed souls heading to who knows where shared the long ride to Penn Station. You could read in their faces the uneventful and often tormenting work and home lives they lived day after day in New York City. Clayton pitied one particularly obese, middle aged Italian woman dressed in a maid outfit that sadly displayed two heavily swollen black eyes. She just daze off into the zombie absence of nowhere, appearing not in a hurry at all to return home to her enraged alcoholic husband. Another gang of teenagers teased a homeless man trying to get some sleep on the subway car just before another man behind them puked all over the front of his date’s ballroom gown, splattering much sickly regurgitation all over her lushly exposed cleavage. In turn, her best friend’s date retaliated by severely kicking his ass. A grand show from a silent mime trying to distract eyes from the beating unto him for the mildest appeasement quickly waned. The pack of teenagers quickly rerouted their attention to the guy getting his ass kicked, laughing immensely over his barfed on date grabbing two fistfuls of his scalp and rubbing his face into her vomit drenched bosom. Making her accusatory point of ruining her ‘fucking dress’ repeatedly.
The worthless shit!
Clayton finally reached Penn Station and phoned home where his Sister-In-law had picked up the phone. Her voice was very shaky and distressed.
“Clayton, my God it’s been nearly four days. We were…we were all worried.”
He swallowed sharply to try and conceal the shakiness in his voice as result of the mortal drama that unfolded just an hour prior.
“Relax, Janet. I am fine, everything is ok. I had this demanding client all the way out in far lower east Long Island who experienced a melt down. He happens to be one of my largest sells ever, so I had to make sure everything ran smoothly again.”
He could literally feel his first love Janet’s sigh from the other end.
“Ok, I know I over react. It’s just…well, I still care.” She defended.
Clayton met Janet Easton in spring of 1980 while both were sophomores at NYU. The two couldn’t have been more opposite. He, the young economist major and Reagan Republican who hated any sport outside of The New York Yankees and she was a very radical, punked-out beer and shots slamming regular head banger at CBGB’s where she bartended part-time. The first time they met resulted in an argument at a PETA gathering where Clayton accepted a day labor job assisting with set up. Back then, Janet hated anyone who was gay, vegetarian or listened to Top 40 music. So she attended The PETA gathering to boycott the gay, vegan, dogmatically sick people of PETA and nearly clobbered the future love of her life that very day. She halted only mere seconds while he explained his financial disposition and being assigned there to earn money while in college. Janet understood herself the financial pitfalls and sacrifices one must make in order to survive as a New Yorker. She had to giving blow jobs to a handful of house band members every month in order to make rent and clearly understood why a young economics geek could wind up trapped slaving away for lousy PETA for a day. Even geeks had to pay their rent and tuition.
Following a very erotic and rough fuck their first night together, Janet opened up an exciting new path for Clayton. It included a new ‘RAD’ hair doo of gelled, short spikes, complimented by an entire wardrobe change consisting of sleeveless shirts, torn black jeans and spiked wrist bands. She furthered his rescue and transformation by smashing all of his Beatles, Bob Dylan and Bee Gees albums, gladly replacing his inferior vinyl collection with an abundance of Patti Smith, Ramones, Sex Pistols and Black Flag albums. By the time Billy Idol’s first whirlwind tour mesmerized New York City, Clayton was cool, radical and brazen by all outward appearances.
Upon graduation from NYU, both Clayton and Janet had since turned to the flood of new wave overtaking the music world and MTV. Duran Duran officially replaced The Sex Pistols and Janet dressed her man to look like the lead singer of The Thompson Twins. They were engaged to marry eight months following graduation, but Janet was arrested that summer during a night club raid and was sentenced to prison for possession of cocaine, serving seven long years of isolation and hell. During this time, Clayton drew closer to Janet’s family. She had an older sister named Janine who had returned home after serving five years in the Peace Corpse. Her dream of opening a trendy bakery in the eclectic and magnetically growing SoHo region of Manhattan gradually became a reality in 1986. Clayton had at that time established himself in a well paid blue collar service position for Frigidaire and the two collaborated to open the very successful and popular ‘A Taste of Olde England Café. ‘They shocked everyone when eloping on Valentines Day in 1987 and ever since Janet’s release from prison in 1991, the entire family-consisting also of only their domineering mother Ida- Janet has been longing to have Clayton back.
Clayton cringed with a new thought as Janet’s tears intensified over the phone. “Is everything ok at the hospital?”
Janet composed herself. “Oh yes, Janine is ok. Well, I guess the same really. The doctors tried another electro-stimulus test in hope she would react voluntarily, but she didn’t respond. Mother hasn’t left her side in nearly a week and well, I guess I…I guess I just needed to be with someone. Dammit Clayton, I need to see you.”
Clayton assured her he would be back home soon enough and invited Janet to stay there at the apartment and wait for him.
Oh hell, what is this? Not again, stupid!
Clayton now reflected on four years ago when He and Janine were suffering their first economic trouble at the bakery. It was during the winter of 2001 when New Yorkers gravely mourned the terrorist attacks on September Eleven. The economy and many city businesses were devastated. It was the reunion of Janet’s sexual prowess that soothed him while business stress negatively took its toll on he and Janine’s marriage for months on end. Janet’s unfaltering love and sexual longing for Clayton also helped during the aftermath of two miscarriages just a year apart. Janine had to be hospitalized for depression and then sent away for several months to a reclusive group home upstate for further therapy. Her sister Janet rekindled what she had lost many years ago with Clayton during this time and they seemingly became permanent lovers once again, involving an affair that continued for quite awhile even after Janine returned home to her husband and business.
Everything appeared on the surface business wise and secretly provocative and thrilling until that one fateful evening and the single monstrous event that completely unnerved Clayton, the rivaling sisters and Mother Ida Easton each bitterly choking minute of every day.
February 14, 2005
This particular Valentines Day changed the lives, marriage and rigorous tailspin of both the Navarr and Easton families forever. It was a momentous time for Clayton and Janine that truly felt like the couple had pieced their marriage firmly together again after so much tragedy and the secret affair between Clayton and Janet. This Valentines marked the time of the first one hundred thousand dollar profit of the bakery in post September Eleven. Janine had fully rehabilitated emotionally and had been home and back at work for a several months. Clayton’s affair with Janet while his wife was away was completely dissolved by this time. Janet had run off to California with a new boyfriend who idolized The Grateful Dead. Ida Easton heard reports her daughter was doing mainline drugs while living in squalor, but never pursued after her. As far as Ida was concerned, her youngest daughter Janet had always been this rambunctious and out of control cannonball. If seven years of prison didn’t straighten her out, then nothing ever could.
That Valentines Evening in 2005, Clayton arranged a private dinner with his wife at the romantic French Café’ des Artistes in Manhattan. Mayor Giuliani’s wife loved the family bakery in SoHo, stopping in every week for conversation with Janine. So Missus Giuliani placed a few phone calls on the couples’ behalf and Clayton doted on his wife while elegantly celebrating a successful new year together after overcoming the challenges, pitfalls and tragedies throughout their marriage. After dinner they took in a new show on Broadway and decided to return to the bakery to pick up a special bottle of Champaign Clayton had ordered from Europe and kept chilled in the cellar for this very night. His decision to park in the back alley instead of the front of the bakery that evening however thrust his life, marriage, home and business into utter chaos almost in a blink of an eye. While Clayton was inside the basement of the bakery fetching the exquisite bottle of imported Champaign, a gang of thugs descended upon the vehicle parked in back. Police believe Janine tried at first to ward off the assailants who eventually shot her point blank in the face and then car jacked the vehicle.
The catastrophic events of that evening continue to haunt Clayton in his sleep. They replay over and over again, always a nightmarish illumination of defeat. The agonizing torment of trying to chase after the stolen vehicle, only to fall face down in the rubber burning of smelt as it sped out of sight. The feeling of his wife’s warm blood jetting-out all over his arms and lap while awaiting emergency help to arrive. But none of which compared to the frightening sight of emergency room staff frantically resuscitating Janine four times during surgery before several machines and wires enabled her vegetable state of unawares to breathe for her to this very day.
That evening was the end of Clayton’s life as he knew it. After that, only vengeance and the resurging comfort of his wife’s sister and lost first love, Janet-could seemingly remedy an elixir of numbness and retribution.
CHAPTER TWO
Janet had all the lights turned on inside the cramped lower eastside apartment when Clayton entered at half past midnight. She had a sullen look on her face, but one of longing as opposed to loneliness.
“Thank God, you’re back. I was really starting to…”
Before she could finish, Clayton crossed the entrance hall to hug and kiss her. She absorbed him like a sponge. He flinched back in pain when her grasp had involuntarily squeezed the wound he received earlier in the evening.
She looked down in shock. “Oh my God, you’re injured again. My goodness, what happened?”
Not providing any immediate explanation, he thrust himself away from her and marched straight into the bathroom to disrobe in front of the mirror. Clayton sighed in relief over the wound clotting and other slashes high on his ribs not appearing too severe. There was only the one deeper puncture needing attending. He had to reinforce it from bleeding further in the future. Janet stood in the frame of the door watching in silence, fighting the strong urge to explode in shock. She occasionally raised a hand to swab the silent tears pouring down both sides of her face. She knew better than to persist after seeking answers. Just like all the other times before, she just aided mechanically with handing Clayton fresh towels and warming water on the stove for sterilization during the most severe times when he had to painstakingly stitch himself.
“Ida has phoned three times for you this evening. She said she wants to see you immediately.” Janet relayed to him as Clayton carefully wrapped his ribs with gauze over a thick pool of Neosporin.
He began cleaning up the mess of wet towels around the sink when Janet lurched forward to wrap herself around his back and cried into one side of his face.
“Clayton, please…I can’t bare to see you like this. Every couple of weeks you run off and most of the times return either cut or all banged up. What the hell is going on?”
He paused to turn around and receive her embrace. Her warmth was comforting and helped ease the pain.
“Shhh…” he calmly whispered. I am fine.
Janet didn’t retreat though. She pulled away and this time demanded to know what was going on.
He finally gave in, but not with information. Instead, he came to her again and began passionately kissing her. She relaxed and pulled him out of the bathroom, guiding his lips and hands all over her upper torso and neck until they were together in the bedroom.
“Oh God, I’ve wanted this for so long.” She moaned in compliance to his teeth destining the laces on her blouse.
Her massive breasts poked out and he enveloped them instantly, bouncing back and forth in suckling delight as their fullness consumed his entire face. He lowered her onto the bed and they tangled in foreplay until she maneuvered on top to straddle his face. She was just about to clamp a fistful of his dark curly hair to move his lips down below where she already was on the brink of gushing when the ringing of the telephone directly behind his head atop the bedside night stand loudly shrilled. Her body stiffened when Clayton stopped completely and shifted out from beneath her to pick up.
“No, no, let whoever…”
Her plea fell on deaf ears. Janet frustratingly got up and dressed herself again.
“Yes, Ida, I will be right there. I will be on my way in just a few minutes. Ok?”
Janet shocked once more when he hung up.
“Where the hell are you going now? It’s after 2 am. Jesus Clayton, what the hell does Mother want at this hour?”
“Just wants to talk. You know, update me on some paper work and important signatures the doctors need first thing this morning. I shouldn’t be but an hour.”
Janet sunk back atop the bed again. She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side in utter dismay.
“Whatever.” She simply let go. “I guess I won’t see you again for a few days?”
After fastening the last of a fresh set of clothes, Clayton picked up a pair of loafers from the closet and carried them gingerly over the bed. He bent down to kiss her, but she turned away.
“Listen, things are really crazy right now. I know I haven’t been home much, but once we straighten out everything that needs to be taken care of at the hospital, I’ll be right back here with you. We’ll have plenty of time for each other, I promise.”
Clayton kissed her on the cheek and rose to dart out of the bedroom. When the front door had made its distinct clicking sound of a sturdy lock, Janet sat back up on the bed and whispered to herself a disgruntled, “Sure, whatever you say Clayton.”
Serial killer Ted Bundy's murders recounted from the perspective of thirty years after his execution in a Florida prison.
Brutal, compelling, with new updated facts about the case, his victims and the compulsions that drove Ted Bundy to mass murder.
