Caroline Gerardo worked in the trenches of the mortgage busines. She shares all the lavish lifestyles. Come along to attend a Board meeting, travel to the Bahamas for a private rave party, and deep six a body... The fictional story is a fast ride.
Katherine the main character survives the journey from New York City to Newport Beach California. Katherine must hide her vulnerabilty from the sharks at the office. Katherine is unaware she is being set up as the Fall 'guy' for the murders of the Bank's Board Members.
Excerpt
Newport Beach Bahia Corinthian Private Yacht Club 7/1/2004
“Meet me at nine forty behind the Balboa Yacht Club,” I tell the bastard.
“It’s too cold tonight for me to go over to the Clubhouse bar. You are always late. I’ll wait on my boat, we can talk there.” James Adam answers while curling his thick eyebrows with his fingers.
That he calls it only a ‘boat’ is comical. It is an elaborate extravaganza. “James Adam bought his yacht with cash.”
The ship is a one hundred fifty one foot toy he acquired when he retired from South Africa. He sold his mining, grain and materials shipping company for billions after refinancing his international dry goods import export company. Adam christened her “Cash Out.” The ship’s name is tacky and painted the green hue of a mint dollar bill with eighteen-Carat gold leaf accents.
“Got cash out with Citigroup.” Adam likes bragging.
Adam is sick rich. In 1996, he controlled the Baltic Dry Index in twenty of forty routes. Now Adam takes it easy spending evenings on the ship docked in Newport Harbor. He dodders around making lists of chores for his crew made up mostly of illegals. During the day light hours, Adam is the controlling Head of the Board of Nationwide Bank, a medal on his chest he wears with arrogance.
“Don’t tell your wife where you are going. Just tell Claire you have to leave town for a night.” My tone is jovial to make him feel at ease.
“Fine, it will be a break from Claire hovering over me.” Adam chuckles about the old ball and chain joke.
Adam fixes a High Ball in a Waterford tumbler while his cigarette smolders on the counter. His blonde wife Claire never allows him to drink or smoke at home. Savoring the feel of the crystal in his hand and the crunch of the ice on his teeth Adam sips the amber bourbon. A cracking sound from the wheelhouse leads him to investigate below deck. He rests the bottle on the table to snoop and clean up whatever might have toppled over in the breeze. He walks with his knees wide and stiff. He does not know I am luring him down the spiral staircase.
“Damn charts knocked over,” are Adam’s last words. Papers and maps stay strewn on the floor. He leans to pick up graphs, maps, and charts off the emerald green carpet; the smashing of the rear skull puts his temple right in contact with the brass of the helm chair. I whack him once and he falls on top of the white slick of papers in the mossy surface. A roll of plastic clubs him to death. The hard chair placed right in the wrong location really does the full job for me of internal injury.
Not a drop of blood releases from a wound. His pale forehead curls into the floor. He is an egg white worm in the shape of the letter C. I cannot see the rapid hemorrhaging swells inside his brain.
“You cock chafer.”
Adam looks like a nude cutworm with slumber slowing his brain waves. I nudge the body with my foot. A tremor from the Pons a base signal “halt” flows to the thalamus. The limb muscles paralyze. I feel his scarab neck. There is no pulse. I roll his shoulders over, the eyes are open and there is no eye movement. Then in one last attempt to survive he flutters, the cerebral cortex thinks a response “do not end.” With that message the pupils jerk, two rapid breaths and then total failure. Adam falls asleep forever.
“Witchety grub, ruining my plans.”
I climb the aft deck companionway. It’s narrow stairs lead up to the bridge. I leave him alone. Adam is invisible below deck. My medical gloves touch the teak railing and browse over the dining table for twelve in the salon.
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