Accidents Waiting to Happen (30 page)

Everyone did as Williams demanded and retook their places.

“Mr. Deuce…can I call you Bob?”

Bob nodded.

“Bob, I appreciate what you are trying to do for Mr. Michaels and for us, too.
 
But you aren’t giving us very much to work with,” William’s said.

Brady’s eyes smoldered.
 
He looked like a restrained Rottweiler that needed feeding.

Bob took a breath, held it for a moment and released it.
 
“I know it sounds weak, but it’s all I have.
 
I want you to know there’s something to Josh’s claims.
 
I don’t promise to understand it, but there’s something odd happening.”

Seeing the cops’ response was less than enthusiastic, Bob decided to keep Mark Keegan’s death and the funeral wreath incident to himself.
 
Information based on Josh’s gut feeling could be best described as weak even if it was bizarre.
 
If they weren’t going with the best he had to give them, they weren’t about to be bowled over with the rest.
 
He was reminded of something his fifth grade teacher used to say to him when she caught him daydreaming.

“There’s no point chasing after rainbows, Robert.
 
You’ll never catch up to one.”

Bob knew Josh’s problems weren’t illusions.
 
They were problems worth chasing, but this wasn’t the place to start.

Williams asked, “Can you give us a description of the man?”

Bob detailed a description of the ordinary looking man.
 
He was amazed how hard it was to describe Mitchell.
 
He recalled the comment the cotton candy headed receptionist had made at the River City Inn.
 
“We have a lot of men here who fit that description.”
 

“Thank you, Bob.”
 
The young, black officer noted down the description, but his enthusiastic smile couldn’t hide the uselessness of the information.

“What happens now?” Bob asked.

“We will follow up on your claims and we’ll let you know in due course,” Williams said.

The answer straight out of the police-training manual
, Bob thought.

“But with what we have gotten from you and Mr. Michaels, I’m not sure what we will turn up,” Williams added.

Bob frowned.
 
“Thanks for your time.”

“No problem at all, sir.”
 
Officer Williams offered a hand.

Bob shook it and Brady's, who said nothing but glared intensely at him.
 
Bob dismissed Brady’s attitude as sour grapes and let himself be shown out of the station.

Unlocking the car door, he noticed the fifteen minutes left on the thirty-minute parking meter.
 
Someone else’s lucky day
, he thought, as he got into his car and drove back to his office.

Back in his office, Bob stared out the window.
 
Screw the cops
, he thought.
 
They wouldn’t take this seriously until they had Josh’s corpse lying on the ground and Mitchell standing over him with a smoking gun.
 
If the police weren’t going to do anything, then he would.
 
Someone had to get to the bottom of the matter.
 
Besides, he didn’t fancy telling Josh the police intended to do nothing, because they hadn’t handed the case to them on a plate.
 
He wanted to give his friend something positive, but what?
 
Then it came to him—what about Margaret
Macey
?
  

Bob called up Margaret Macey’s file on the computer.
 
He picked up the phone and dialed her number off the screen.

A trembling voice said, “Hello”.

“Is this Margaret Macey?” Bob asked.

“Yes.”
 

She was on the verge of tears.
 
Her distress unnerved him.
 
She sounded petrified.
 
He spoke in a level tone, without emotion.
 
“Hi, I’m Bob Deuce.
 
Do you remember me at all?”

“No,” came the short response.

“I’m from Family Stop Insurance Services.”

“Oh, no.
 
Not you again.
 
You just want me dead.
 
You want to kill me.”
 

The old woman transmitted her fear through the telephone line and into Bob.
 
The hair on the back of his neck prickled and sweat broke out across his forehead.
 
Stammering, he tried to explain himself, but he couldn’t get her to understand him.
 
She fired off outrageous accusation after outrageous accusation at him.
 

“I know it’s you and don’t tell me you’re the pizza boy this time.
 
I’m not that stupid,” she raved.

Bob struggled to get a word in between her rants.
 
“No…no…Mrs. Macey you don’t understand.
 
You’re not listening.”
 

“I knew it was you calling, I can always tell and I know you’ve been inside my house.”

“But Mrs. Macey.”

“You won’t hurt me, you bastard.”

Before he could say anything further the phone line went dead.
 
Margaret Macey had hung up.

The encounter left him breathless.
 
He sat there for several minutes trying to let his heart rate settle.
 
The sound of his blood pumping around his body sloshed in his ears.
 
He felt very old for his age.
 
He wiped the sweat from his brow.
 
What the hell had happened to this woman?
 

“Well that wasn’t the positive news I was hoping to give you, Josh,” Bob muttered to himself.

***

Josh and Kate didn’t speak.
 
They sat at either end of the couch with a distance between them measurable in more than just feet.
 
Abby was in bed asleep.
 
Primetime television had come to an end, making way for the nightly news.
 
The station went to commercials.
 
A preview for the Channel 3 news flashed up and the anchor ran through the main stories for the upcoming program.
 
The lead story was something Josh had been expecting.

“More on that exclusive to Channel 3—corruption in the construction of the Mountain Vista apartments in Dixon.
 
Our source has named names involved,” the anchor said.

Flatly, Kate spoke over the television.
 
“Is that you?”

“I imagine so,” Josh said, in the same tone.

Sitting in renewed silence, Josh braced himself for the news program to start.

The news began with a summary of the headlines before the concerned looking anchor went into the lead story.
 

“Last week, we brought you an exclusive story about the alleged scandal over the building of the Mountain Vista apartments in Dixon.
 
Our source, who still wishes to remain nameless at this point, has provided further details of the corrupt activities conducted during the building of the apartments.

“Allegedly, Johnston Construction, Inc. intentionally built the apartments below standard to ensure they made a substantial profit.
 
Knowing full well the construction wouldn’t pass the inspection, Johnston Construction’s owner Mike Johnston bribed building inspector, Joshua Michaels.
 
Our source alleges Mr. Michaels accepted ten thousand dollars from Mr. Johnston.

“I must express, we as yet have not sought comment from either Mike Johnston or Joshua Michaels.

The anchor introduced the field reporter and the camera switched to the reporter outside the Dixon apartments.
 
The reporter relayed information similar to what the anchor had expressed.

Josh had his answer.
 
Bell had made her decision.
 
He supposed she’d decided to decline the money offer and go with revenge.
 
The bonds of the blackmail that held him so tightly were broken.
 
Josh was free.
 
But he was now in the hands of others over whom he had no control.
 
He’d gone from the mercy of Bell, his blackmailer, to the mercy of the media, police and anybody else investigating the claim.
 
He was now fair game to anyone who wanted a piece of him.
 
He’d seen enough and reached for the remote control on the coffee table.
 

“I’m still watching that,” Kate said icily.

Josh turned to her.
 
She stared intently at the screen, her face devoid of any facial expression.
 
He left the remote and leaned back into the couch.

The Channel 3 nightly news team moved onto another story.

“Do you think Belinda is their source?”
 

“Yes.
 
I gave her the opportunity to make her final demands because I refused to be blackmailed anymore,” he said.

“What was her final amount?”

“Nothing.
 
She hadn’t given me an answer, until now.”
 
Josh nodded at the television.
 
“I think she would prefer to see me pay in other ways.”
 
His mind drifted away to his affair with Bell.
 
She had cut some of the puppet strings, but the ones that made Josh dance were still attached.

He continued.
 
“I want you to understand things are probably going to get worse before they get better,” Josh said.

“Life with you over the past two weeks has prepared me for every eventuality.
 
Shock after shock—the impact is reduced with every new occurrence.
 
Josh, I don’t think anything would totally surprise me,” she said.

It was difficult for Josh to respond to her coldness.
 
He composed himself before speaking.

“If someone inspects those apartments they will find faults and they have a record of my report giving the construction the green light.
 
They’ll have enough evidence to convict,” Josh said.

“What will they do to you?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know what they do in these cases.”
 
Josh was silent for a moment.
 
“What will you do?”

“What will I do?”

Josh moved across the couch to be close to her and took her hand in his.

For a moment, Kate stiffened at his contact, but then she relaxed.

“Will you stay with me regardless of the outcome?” he said.

Kate looked away.
 

Josh placed a gentle hand on her jaw and turned her head towards him.
 
“Look at me, please.
 
Will you?”

“I don’t know, Josh.”
 
Tears welled in Kate’s eyes.
 
“I really don’t know.”
 

Chapter Twenty-one

For Dexter Tyrell, this was a rare excursion from his two usual haunts—his home and Pinnacle Investments.
 
He’d booked the hotel room for the day although he only intended using it for a few hours.
 
It may have seemed extravagant at five hundred dollars, but in the long run it was a drop in the ocean.
 
The room was for work-related business, but not the sort of business his colleagues would understand.
 
It was better for everyone if his colleagues didn’t observe him.

His subversive program, killing the firm’s viatical clients, was faltering.
 
Two case files worth over six hundred thousand dollars in company revenues were being held up because of the incompetence of the hit man and that impacted dearly on the disposal of other clients.
 
Tyrell’s decision might be risky, but it would certainly get his project moving.

Slumped in the more than comfortable, padded armchair of the well-appointed hotel room, Tyrell sat cross-legged, his left over his right.
 
The left leg rocked back and forth while he listened to the ringing of the cell phone in his hand.
 
Last chance, my friend
.
 
His hit man had one more opportunity to put things right.
 
Tyrell straightened in his chair and uncrossed his legs when the phone was answered.