Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (11 page)

For the first time since he had entered the room, Sam noticed the odor of cigar smoke.  It was as if someone was smoking one, here and now. Ignoring the surprising smell, he moved closer to the painting, looking at it discriminately.  He could have sworn, the first time he saw the artwork; there was a little girl on the front porch.

Sam felt a strange chill in the air. He was more than ready to go; he took one last glance at the painting before removing it from the wall. The room remained still, except for the booming thunder outside and the pounding of his heartbeat resounding in his ears. He left the room as quickly as possible, and started down the hall. Rene, who had lingered in the office, realized he was gone, and caught up with Sam at the stairwell.

Chapter 12
Sept. 15
th
, 1929
 

It’s Finished

September 15
th
, 1929

Charles managed to get his left hand around Max’s wrist before the gun went off. Snarling with rage like a wild animal, he brought his right fist around to deliver a round-house blow to the side of Max’s jaw. There was a loud cracking noise as bone shattered, and Max flew backwards onto the floor from the impact.

Gauging rapidly that his foe was no longer moving, Charles turned, grabbing a heavy marble paperweight off his desk. Limping two steps, he bent down next to his prey, and with a ruthlessness that surprised even him, he pounded the weight down on Max’s head four, or  five times. “Well, I guess that ought to do it,” he whispered to himself.

Just then, he heard the front door slam, and the sound of light footsteps hurrying down the front porch.
The girls must have heard the shot and got scared. No matter, they can let themselves out, I have work to do.

Standing up for the first time since it happened; he realized he had been shot. The adrenalin from the fight was subsiding, and his leg hurt like hell. He limped over to the burgundy leather couch at the side of his office; wincing he sat down and put his leg up. There was a hole through his pant leg about mid shin, and a dark red stain trailing down to the cuff. Carefully, with a fair amount of swearing involved, he inched up his pants leg. The slug had entered next to his shin, and appeared to have imbedded itself against the bone. There was an entry wound, but no exit wound.

Damn it to hell! Why couldn’t it just have gone through? Why’d that bastard shoot me? We could have made a deal, granted it wouldn’t have lasted.

              His thoughts returning to the situation at hand, he realized that something had to be done to stop the bleeding. Hobbling out of the room, he returned several minutes later with a makeshift bandage tied around his lower left leg.             

With his focus regained, he began to move several chairs and an end table off of the carpet in the center of the office. Once it was cleared he grabbed Max’s feet, turning his body so it would lay lengthwise across the end of the carpet. Bending down, he began to roll the corpse up as if it were just a piece of furniture to be moved. After a couple turns of the carpet, he frowned and began to unroll it. With the body now laying on its back facing him, he reached his hand into Max’s front pocket. Smiling with satisfaction, Charles found what he was looking for. He needed the keys to Max’s car. There was no way he was going to get blood in his car. Carefully, he began to roll the rug back up again.

Picking up the rug, he headed for the door. Now, carrying a dead body is hard enough if you’re not hurt, but with a bullet in his leg, it was a son-of-a-bitch just to stay upright. He staggered several times on his way to the back door; the pain in his left leg was almost unbearable, but he managed to carry the dead lard-ass to the car. He had to dispose of this “carpet”.   He had no choice; if Angela found out; he would be the next carcass in a rug.

Twenty minutes later, he was still driving around with Max’s body in the back seat. An intense fear was beginning to grip him, tightly. “
Where can I get rid of this piece of shit!”
was all that he could think of.  Normally, he would have planned everything very carefully, but there was no time for planning. “
Funny, how life can turn on a dime,”
Charles thought to himself, trying hard to relax.

Finally, after cruising around for nearly an hour, a smirk spread across his face as he finally hatched up a decent plan.   In fact, this whole evening might not turn out to be a total loss. Things just might turn out to be better, way better. Stomping on the brakes, he wheeled the car around hard in the opposite direction.

*    *    *

Angela was furiously pacing the floor of her downtown office. Max hadn’t reported back yet.
Where the hell is that worthless bastard?  If I don’t hear from him soon, he’ll pay for his lack of respect. 
She continued pacing, trying to reassure herself that things were going to be fine.
Max is reliable, I can count on him. He’ll show up. He just wants to be sure and get all of the facts straight before messing with Charles, and potentially hurting business.

At that moment the door opened and Charles entered the room. His suit was immaculate, his hair just right as usual, and he was carrying a medium sized box.

A surprised look slipped across Angela’s face, before she could conceal it. She never liked to show surprise. Her father always used to say, “If you are surprised, Angela dear, you are not in control of the situation.” She couldn’t have her people think she was not in control for even a second. Lack of control was weakness, and showing weakness would bring you to a quick end in this business.

With a beaming smile, Angela walked forward to greet Charles, moving in close and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Charles, I am so glad to see you,” she said with poised confidence.

Charles looked slightly taken aback. This was not the type of greeting he was expecting from Angela. The fact registered across his face as a complete look of shock, and he was unable to conceal it.

An even bigger smile spread across Angela’s face. It was a true unforced smile, but it wasn’t for Charles. It was an expression of pleasure at her cleverness.
However, dad said surprising someone else is another matter indeed, and Charles sure wasn’t ready for a warm greeting. What is that bastard up to?

Recovering momentarily from his shock, Charles held out the box he was carrying to Angela.

She noticed in fact that it was a present, wrapped in beautiful red paper with a purple bow on it. The wrapping was very neatly done; obviously a lot of effort went into the presentation.

Again, Angela felt caught off guard. However, this time she didn’t let it show. “A present for me? Charles you shouldn’t have--but thank you.” She walked back towards her desk, and motioned for him to take a seat as well.

Charles stood stock-still, watching her walk back to the desk. He loved the curves of her figure, and the graceful elegance with which she moved. Every inch of her had style. He felt himself succumbing again to her charms, falling back under her spell.

“Charles, aren’t you going to sit down?” she said curiously, knowing full well that his eyes were upon her.

“Yes, sorry, I’m not feeling well,” he replied. Charles limped several steps as he moved towards the chair and took a seat. His face showed only the slightest hint of pain.

Angela chastised herself for not observing the limp when he first entered the room.
How could I have missed it?
Again, she was surprised.
What the hell is going on with me? I can’t be slipping this bad, not now. Not when I am so close to getting what I want.

“What happened?  Why are you limping? Are you all right?” the concern in her voice sounding convincingly genuine. Maybe it was; after all she and Charles had been lovers on and off for many years. This was probably the only reason he was still alive. Anyone else suspected of skimming off the top would have been killed without as much as a second thought. She tried to tell herself that he meant nothing to her, but that was only a lie she told to herself.

“I’d rather talk about something happy like your present,” he said, beaming a big smile in her direction.

Glad to put business aside for the moment, she ripped the package open with great abandon. She wasn’t one of those wimpy present openers that try to preserve the paper for another use. Instead, she opened presents like she did everything else in life--full out. The paper went flying this way and that, crumpling loudly in the process. Soon she was tearing the lid of the box, and digging through tissue paper to find its contents.

As nice as Angela had been today, Charles was feeling less clever about his gift. He tried to remind himself that she was probably toying with him, just as he was about to do with her. Still, he couldn’t help wonder if some of her feelings toward him were sincere.

Opening the box, she looked slightly confused. “It’s a paperweight. I have to say, that’s not what I was expecting. Thank you, it will go well on the corner of my desk here.” She placed the brass stand down gently on the desk, and then set the green marble ball in its place. She looked at it confused, studying the swirling granular patterns covering the surface. It was such a strange gift, not very romantic, and something she had never asked for.

“Do you like it?” he inquired.

“Yes, it looks good there. It adds a little something to the desk. So, let’s get back to talking about
you
.”

“Well, you’re not going to like that. In fact, you’re going to get very pissed off.  I went to buy your present on the other side of town yesterday. When I was coming out of the store, I ran into Max. As we were walking back to the car, I heard tires screeching and guns blazing. There was a big black sedan, which was filled with members of the Scarafini outfit. Bullets were flying everywhere; there wasn’t even time to take cover. Their car never even slowed down,” he paused for dramatic emphasis. Charles was nothing if not a great story teller. He could embellish with the best of them, and get the audience hanging on every word. “I have never seen Max so pissed.  His face was bright red, with a look on it that was downright crazed. He was going to stop at nothing to pay them back. Max grabbed my arm, and pointed to his car which was parked across the street. I began to run before wincing in pain. I fell to the ground. That’s when I realized, those bastards had hit me!” his face contorting with rage. Rage that he felt towards Max, and not this empty story. “My leg was throbbing, and blood was spewing out. Realizing that I wasn’t in any shape to go after them, Max took off hell bent. He swore he would get those bastards, and ran to his car, leaving me to limp slowly back to mine.”

“Well, then what happened?” asked Angela.

“There is really nothing more to tell. I dragged myself back to my car, and went home to clean up my wound. I am assuming Max didn’t catch up with them, and by the look on your face, I am guessing this is the first you have heard of the incident.  So he hasn’t reported in yet?” he questioned innocently.

“What would you say if he had reported in? Perhaps, I also wanted to hear your take on the incident,” she said in an icy tone.

Charles felt a chill run up and down his spine. He hadn’t been ready for that statement; it left him with a confused and startled look upon his face. Recovering quickly, he remembered Angela’s quick wit. She was truly a smart woman, an opponent to be admired and feared. “Is he all right, did he get any of the rotten bastards that shot me?” his sincerity was somewhat forced, but he felt it did the trick, convincingly enough. Angela definitely suspected something, but how much? Did she believe any of his story?

Her demeanor changing suddenly, she walked around the desk placing her slender hand with its perfectly manicured bright-red finger nails on his shoulder. She patted him gently. “Meet me for dinner tonight at Sharky’s. Let’s say around eight, and bring your appetite.”

She walked towards the windows, and glanced over her shoulder giving him a dismissive wave, “Eight o’clock.”

This had gone better than he had hoped for, he thought as he walked out of the office. She had definitely bought his story. The question about Max reporting in had been just a standard test to gain his reaction, not a statement of its untruth. How brilliant was this?  He had placed the murder weapon right in front of her, gotten rid of Max, and now he was going to have dinner with her. Things couldn’t have gone more swimmingly. He couldn’t have felt better, except for the wincing pain that came shooting up his leg as he stepped out of the building onto the city sidewalk.

*    *    *

Angela knew something was up. Charles’ story didn’t seem quite right. Yet, he and Max had always gotten along decently, and it was hard to believe that Charles would harm him. Especially since she had given Max strict orders not to confront him, only to follow him and gain information. Without a confrontation, Charles would have had no reason to bump him off. Unless Max had found something out and Charles knew it.

“Wes, Larry, get in here.” Two of her crew entered the office. Wes was tall and thin, and Larry was his polar opposite; however, both men wore dark immaculately kept suits. “Follow Charles from a safe distance. I want to know everywhere he goes today. Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll kill you personally,” her mouth spitting a venomous tone.

“Yes, boss,” they both answered making hastily for the door. Halfway done the hallway Wes turned to Larry, “Have you ever seen her look that mad before?”

“No, and I hope we don’t again. Let’s get going on this.”

*    *    *

Angela left the office building on her own, shrugging off her usual security entourage. She found herself needing some space. She began walking down the street at a brisk pace, her high heels clicking as they hit the concrete. The day was warm, and the smell of motorcars and street vendors hung in the air.