Wayne E. Beyea - The Day the Catskills Cried: A True Crime Story

The Day the Catskills Cried

Wayne Beyea

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The Day the Catskills Cried

Copyright 2008 by Wayne E. Beyea

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ISBN: 978-0-595-52286-6 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-51020-7 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-0-595-62342-6 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date 11/03/08

Contents

Dedicated to Trudy Resnick Farber

She was a kind, sensitive soul who wasnt interested in diamonds and furs. Her sole interest was people. She planted her garden with love. Rabbi Herman Eisner

The sunshine of her personality helped me to grow. Roger Farber

Notice: Although the characters portrayed in this true story are real, some names have been changed.

The silence on the forest hillside was disturbed by the unmistakable sound of something or someone digging. The unmistakable thwack of an axe whacking at tree roots , and clunk, clang of a shovel making contact with stone was ample evidence that the animal digging was of human form. To anyone familiar with the rugged, heavily forested mountainside overlooking the Rondout Reservoir, the sound would seem incongruous and they would undoubtedly seek out its source. However, this day, the only witnesses to the disruption of pristine earth were trees and perhaps a few wary chipmunks and squirrels who watched from a safe distance. They likely later would excitedly warn kin not to go near the hole that the human had dug because it was probably a trap. They would have been nearly correct; however, the small pit, which would have a plywood cover when completed, had a far more diabolical purpose.

The tall young man digging the hole was not accustomed to manual labor, still, he was trim and in reasonably good physical condition as a result of having been a member of his high school and college track teams. Wielding a pick, shovel and axe the tools necessary to dig a hole in ground mined with stone and laced with tree roots - was hard labor and within a short period of time his body was soaked with sweat. Tiny rivulets of salty water trickled from his forehead and burned his eyes. He paused from digging for a moment, removed a glove, and his steamed-over glasses, lowered his head, lifted the bottom of the white cotton tee shirt that covered his upper body and used its end to wipe the sweat off his brow. He stood for a moment staring down at his progress and decided to take a break to let his glasses clear. While resting he examined his surroundings with which he was quite familiar, as his parents had owned a large tract of these woods and he had explored the area as a young lad, searching for gold, pirate treasure and even the legendary Golden Fleece. Of course, they were never found, but what he did find was peace of mind and a treasure of disciples, with whom he could freely commune without fear of ridicule or embarrassment. Unlike deprecating humans Mr. Birch, Maple, Oak, and Pine, attentively listened in silence as he regaled them with self-aggrandizing tales inspired by the genius that dwelt within his mind. Occasionally these disciples even nodded their limbs in approval, or uttered sighs of approval and appreciation for sharing his future plans with them.

The thought of the drama that would soon unfold in this remote section of woods triggered the display of a sardonic smile. In a mocking, tone of voice, seasoned with a touch of bitterness, he said aloud, This is perfect! No one will think to look here and it is unlikely that any hiker or hunter will happen upon this spot until long after the princess is freed from her dark, uncomfortable dungeon. Ron, you are an absolute genius! Having patted himself on the back and re-assuring himself that this was the ideal location, he again wiped his brow with the tail of his tee shirt, donned his now clear horn rim glasses, picked up his shovel and continued digging. The excavation proceeded slowly and after only a few minutes of renewed digging, he was again soaked with sweat. However, the thought of the wealth he would soon acquire made the toil and sweat inconsequential. Her old man will be eager to part with the pittance required to get his precious princess back. Pittance! Now what made me think of that word? It is so out of character of me to use an uppity word like that but I do like the ring of it. It is the sort of word rich people like her and her old man would use. Her old man thinks that just because he has money he is better than the little people he hires and fires at will. A million bucks is mere pocket change to Harry. It is a good bet he wont even call the police. As for you, Princess, a few hours of confinement in this hole will bring you down off your high horse and make you realize you are a mere mortal, just like me. You may have been raised with a silver spoon in your mouth and think you are hot shit, but this forest is my kingdom and while you are here you will grovel, cry and beg me to spare your life. He envisioned the soft, blond haired woman groveling at his feet, begging him to spare her lif e. Having the power to give or take the life of a woman hitherto inaccessible to him was exciting and triggered arousal. Imagining what it would be like to feel her softness shifted a normally subdued libido into overdrive. He could not think straight while focused on such primal urges and knew that he needed to quiet the beast within so as to stay focused on his plan of attaining financial success. Stay focused Ron , he told himself. Taking several deep breaths, he removed his glasses, and once more wiped the sweat from them, using the tail end of his sweat soaked tee shirt, then used another equally wet part of the shirt to mop his brow and face. Having temporarily calmed the beast within him he replaced his glasses and resumed digging. Each small shovel of earth brought his dream of acquiring wealth closer to reality. With renewed digging, he mulled over the details of the plan that had slowly taken shape over the course of three years. Every detail had been fine tuned in his mind to avoid the possibility of mistake or error. He even recognized that the behavior of a person suddenly confronted with the possibility of death could be unpredictable, but he felt confident that his targets were weak personalities and would not resist. He had even toyed with the thought that they were so weak and fearful that they would heed his warning not to contact the police if they wanted to see their precious again. Of course that would make everything too easy. Logically, he had to assume that the police would be called and would play a game of cat and mouse to retrieve the princess and identify her abductor. This mouse will be difficult to catch, he mused with a feeling of superiority, and they will pay to get their princess back. Genius that he was (in his distorted and perverted mind) he had even devised a credible defense in the eventuality that something went awry and he was arrested. He told himself, yes, the plan is solid as a matter of fact it is brilliant. This self-appraisal produced a sweaty glistening smile of smug satisfaction and inspired another pause from labor to massage his ego in a flourish of oratorical self-praise. It mattered not that his disciples were watching. He felt himself to be quite a powerful, commanding figure in their presence and they were a non-threatening audience. Ron, you are truly a genius! All that CIA training is about to pay off. They will never think to look here and your plan should go off without a hitch. These trees are my only witnesses. Having thought this, he studied the tall silent sentinels of Oak, Maple, Birch and Pine that surrounded him, then swept his arm in a circle to address them, in much the same manner an actor would address his audience. And why not, this was his theater - his stage and it would soon open with an exciting drama as its grand premier; a drama written, produced, directed and starring Nobody Ron from the little no where Village of Grahamsville. He chuckled at the notoriety the drama would receive, and the wealth it would bring to its creator who sadly out of necessity, would remain anonymous. The moment was stimulating and exciting, impelling him to address his audience and seek their adulation. Ladies and gentlemen, you will soon witness the most exciting performance ever to grace this theater. The show you are about to see was written by, produced by, directed by and starred in by yours truly. Consider yourselves fortunate that you were selected as audience for this one-time, and one-time only performance. I thank you in advance for your appreciation, adulation and silence. Introduction completed, Ron bowed to show his appreciation to his silent audience. He bent forward and swept his right hand in a downward motion from forehead to ankle. Then cupping a hand around one ear he called out, What, no sound of appreciation from my captive audience? No murmur of moving limbs or whisper among leaves? Well, soon, you will be showing your appreciation for being granted the privilege of being the only audience to view a magnificent, unscripted and unrehearsed real life drama. This statement evoked a fit of hysterical laughter and again he spoke aloud. Ron, you sure do know how to play on words.