Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (47 page)

*    *    *

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, fellas!” Angela commanded. She had a gun in each hand, hammers back. She drove the barrels abrasively into the napes of their necks. If her tone hadn’t convinced them, the cold metal cylinders certainly drove the point home. The two thugs didn’t so much as twitch.

From practically out of nowhere, Charles materialized from behind a large oak tree. The stately tree was right next to the walkway and the enormous girth of the trunk had completely hidden him from view until now. Within a stride, Charles was behind Tim, the barrel of his gun digging harshly into Tim’s back.

The smile that had just begun to take form on Tim’s lips washed away as speedily as it had come. Tim held tight to his now drawn gun, his grip beginning to tremble.

“Well, well, well, It looks like we have us an old fashioned standoff,” Charles spewed out in a taunting tone. “Only this one isn’t going to break into shooting. Drop the guns, Angela, or I waste him.”

“Charles, you and I both know damn well that if I drop the guns you’ll kill the two of us.”

“That’s just a chance you’re going to have to take if you don’t want me to shoot lover boy right now!”

“You’re not going to do that because in the time it takes you, I’ll drop these two goons and open up on you with both barrels. You’ve seen me shoot, there’s no way that you’ll be walking away from this. So here is how it’s going to go down. You and the goons set down your weapons slowly and I give you my word that I won’t shoot any of you. You know what I want, and once I get it our business is done. You can slink off and do whatever floats your boat.”
Can I really keep my word on this? This man is crazy; he’s like a loaded gun, hammer back just waiting to go off.

Charles just stood there silently stewing. The expression on his face was one of intense concentration, as he turned the prospects over and over in his mind.

A few tense moments elapsed, everyone standing there stock still in a deadlock, no individual participant quite sure how this stalemate was going to play out. The rest of the world oblivious to the drama that was unfolding. Around them people were going along on their merry way. The birds were singing, cars humming along with the occasional toot of a horn, but to the gangsters there was nothing but their own terrifying thoughts and the drumming of their racing hearts thumping incessantly. This collective group trance seemed to go on for an infinite amount of time.

His heart suddenly slowing as his brash personality took control; Charles fixated on a single notion.
I can beat her!
With that thought, he made his choice.

The muffled sound of a gunshot caused all hell to break loose. Angela in stunned disbelief responded without hesitation. Squeezing the triggers as fast as possible, dropping both of the thugs in front of her within a split second. The bullets ripped their throats out in bloody unison. Her eyes were starting to tear as she launched forward into a crouch behind the park bench, both guns out in front of her steadily trying to find their mark on Charles.

*    *    *

No more waiting, the time is now.
He held the revolver in his shaking right hand, using the left to steady the situation. “Steve, hold it right there, the game is over!”

Surprised to hear Jack’s voice but undeterred by the situation, he continued forward.
That fool doesn’t have what it takes to play this game, much less end it. Then again why take chances...
twisting seamlessly, Steve came around, beginning to fire even before completing the maneuver. 

Jack saw the glint of gun metal as Steve spun to face him. The first shot froze the blood in his veins. Time seemed to slip into a new dimension for Jack.
This seems like a scene from some crazy western and nobody ever won a fight using spray and pray. I only have three fucking shots! I can’t afford to be wild.
Slowly and deliberately, he took aim, squeezing the trigger. Once, twice, three times, before on the fourth pull the hammer clicked noisily onto an empty cylinder.

The first bullet hit Steve’s upper left arm, causing him to stagger without slowing his advance or the hail of bullets he was pumping out, his brain sending no message to his trigger finger. The second shot pierced the left side of his chest. The adrenaline still coursing through him, Steve continued charging forward in an animal-like rage, eyes filled with bloodlust. The third and final bullet thudded into the middle of Steve’s neck, issuing a sickening cracking sound as the projectile shattered the spine. The thrust of the impact pushed him backwards, Steve’s head starting to rotate to look back towards the sword. 

His body toppled straight back sliding towards the cart. Steve’s right hand dropped the gun with arm outstretching, as if even now, he had not given up on his goal.

Jack went dashing forward towards the cart, which now sat abandoned. All of the exhibit’s patrons had fled the scene after the first gunshot sounded. His ears were ringing from the loud reports, and the acrid smell of gun powder lingered in the air, but none of that mattered. There was the prize he needed, almost within reach. As Jack side-stepped past the body, he noticed Steve trying to gasp out something.

Jack skidded to a stop, turning to stare down upon him. The words were faint as they trickled out of Steve’s mouth, along with a steady stream of blood. Perhaps this would be a moment of revelation for Steve as he lay dying.

Jack bent down closer, straining to hear. Even to the last the man was pure evil. Jack just shook his head, grunting with disgust.

Getting up, he headed for the beckoning blade, the one and only item that could make this mess right.

*    *    *

Angela couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The event hadn’t registered immediately. Only now did she realize Charles had never pulled the trigger. She was sure he intended to, wiping out the only person she had ever truly loved, however, something else had prevented the travesty. Instead Charles was stumbling backward in a death thrash, knocking Tim out of the way in the process. His arms flailed to the side as he continued to stagger backwards, a look of disbelief written on his face, before falling solidly to the ground. Blood was pouring from wounds on his throat, chest, and left arm. Only Angela had never gotten the chance to pull the trigger again after dropping the two goons.

Blinking back the tears from her eyes, Angela stood up, ramming the guns sloppily into the pockets of her trench coat, sprinting towards Tim. Nothing mattered now that they had beaten Charles, and they were alive, both of them.

A stupefied-looking Tim began to dash to her as well. They embraced tightly as if they would never let go of each other again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over. “I love you and my stupid plan almost got you killed.”

Tim, pulling himself together, grabbed Angela by the shoulders, looking deep into her sad eyes. He was going to say something comforting, or perhaps something profound, but in the end decided a small smile would say all that needed to be conveyed.

Her eyes opening wider, Angela started to speak and then stopped, a smile starting to draw itself slowly across her lips.
This is truly an exceptional man,
she thought. How lucky she had been to have fate thrust him into her life.

They turned, Tim’s arm around her waist, and began to walk towards the museum. As the euphoria of the situation began to dissipate they realized a crowd was beginning to gather. The group was keeping their distance for the time being, but that wouldn’t last.

Quickening their gait, they moved towards the museum with the intent of helping Jack. Already, knowing full well he didn’t need them, it was Jack that had saved them. If it hadn’t been for his courageous actions the standoff would have ended very differently.

Jack was climbing down the main steps now headed towards the couple, a look of triumph on his features, holding an exceptionally menacing curved sword in his right hand. Jack hadn’t noticed that a museum security guard was now just a few paces behind and gaining.

Angela pulled one of the guns from her pocket, waving it viciously in the direction of the on coming guard. The man took one glimpse at the weapon and the deranged-seeming person wielding it, spun on his heels, and disappeared back into the doorway he had exited from only seconds ago.

Jack seemed to pay the whole incident no notice. He continued strolling forward as if nothing had transpired.

“Is that the prize?” Tim blurted out, gasping with excitement.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Simply gripping the handle is sending a bizarre tingling sensation up and down my arm.”

“What’s it gonna be, guys?” Angela questioned.

“We’re in this together now,” Jack replied, holding the wickedly curved blade out and indicating that each of them should grasp a portion. Waiting for their compliance, he said nothing more, all of his concentration needed to be focused, very focused.

Chapter 32

Liam entered his antique store, returning from lunch. The place had been locked up for about an hour while he was out. Walking around the counter, he saw a letter resting there.

He did a double take; the envelope hadn’t been there when he left for lunch. The handwriting was very neat and rather formal looking; his whole name was spelled out ‘William Wilhelm’. With a slight feeling of trepidation, Liam picked up the off-white envelope. For several seconds he merely examined the paper closely as if trying to decipher what the contents could be about without opening it.

The letter smelled of a very sensual perfume.
Who would leave me something like this? Just open it, dummy!

The note was not sealed, and with trembling hands Liam slid the contents out. The letter itself was written in the same impeccable handwriting that graced the outside of the envelope.

Dear William,

It is time for you to stop living in the past. I know you are obsessed with it and finding out the truth about your grandfather. Well, the truth is he was a tough guy and he is proud of you for standing up for the causes you believe in. Your exploration into the past will never find you what truly happened. Bill worked for my organization. I sent him on a job and he was betrayed and murdered by his partner. Until recently that betrayal went unanswered. Now, however, the matter has been dealt with and your grandfather’s spirit is at rest. He wanted me to give you this message in the hopes that you could finally rest easy and focus on your future.

Sincerely,

Angela T.

Liam just stood there stunned. This letter touched a nerve right at his core. He had always yearned to know about the mysterious circumstances surrounding his grandfather’s death. Now here was the answer neatly gift- wrapped and staring him in the face. The search for information was finally over. He could feel the truth of it in every fiber of his being; this letter was legitimate. He set the letter down and stood there proudly contemplating things to come, for once not looking back.

*   *   *

Sam walked into the diner. The appearance of the place was so grimy it would have given greasy spoons a good name. He had never been here before, but the location between jobs today made it an ideal stopping point. He selected a booth tucked off in the corner and made himself comfortable, flopping down heavily with a small groan. Jack really had him hustling, multiple projects on opposite sides of town.
Who would have thought he’d grow out of being a slacker. Jack running a company, Mr. business man, I don’t think I’d believe it if I wasn’t living it. Not that the job is without perks, being connected to the top guy does buy me some leeway. Shit, I’ve got it pretty damn good.

A waitress in her wrinkled gray uniform appeared at Sam’s table, bringing him back to the here and now. The name plate pinned to her unkempt clothing read ‘Shelby T.’. “I’ve never seen you in here before,” she stated before asking, “What can I get you?” She finished this last question with an appraising look and something Sam interrupted as a wink.

“I’m not sure; what do you recommend?” he replied, looking her up and down.
She could be pretty if she wasn’t so haggard looking. Hell, that’s what hard living will do for you.

“I’d say everything’s great, but I’d be lying. Between you and me, stick with anything but the daily special and you’ll be okay.” She smiled and gave a little chuckle.

“I guess I’ll go with just a burger and fries, no, make that onion rings.” She scribbled it down and started to turn and walk away. “Say, what’s the ‘T’ stand for?”

She stopped, turned and smiled. “Oh my dear dad, being the car enthusiast that he was, named me after his favorite car, the Shelby Grand Turismo. Wish I could earn half enough money to buy one of those things.”

“You and me both!” Sam replied.

*   *   *

Jack’s arms were burning and his head felt like it was in a heavy fog. He blinked his eyes hard, trying to gain some focus, but the world was a soft blur trying briskly to intrude. Adding to his confusion was the ringing in his ears. The sound was loud and repetitive.

Thoughts poured through his noggin in no meaningful order, and he struggled to gain a concept of where he was or what he was doing.

Finally the ringing began to subside and Jack closed his eyes tightly, trying again to focus his thoughts and emotions.
I was, I was, what? Back in time holding the sword and, and what?

The blasted ringing had now been replaced by an incessant knocking noise followed by the thump of footsteps briskly entering the room. “Mr. Weston, I’m sorry to disturb you; however, your noon appointment has arrived,” said a smooth lady’s voice.

Jack opened his eyes again and spun towards the voice. His body was suddenly becoming aware that he was in a comfy office chair, his mind only now just beginning to catch up with the program.

“Mr. Weston, are you okay? You look a little pale,” came back the voice, a note of concern coloring its tempo.

Jack managed to stutter out a “huh,” before going silent again.
Why can’t I think straight? This time travel thing is a bitch. Just go with the flow, dummy, you’ll figure things out.
“Ahhm, yes, I’ll be fine. What was that you said again?”

“Your noon appointment is outside. Should I send her in?”

Jack’s trance-like state was finally falling away like a curtain slowly rising before a show. He found himself staring at a pleasant young woman in her mid-twenties. She was dressed very professionally. A peculiar smile was on her lips, as she stood there waiting for his response. “Yes, please send them in.”

She walked out of the office wondering just who he thought them was. The appointment was one her, and from the receptionist’s understanding the woman was his girlfriend. Then again, what did she know, this was a new job and she hadn’t managed to get all the names, faces, and stories straight yet.

Jack took the temporary silence as a chance to glance around at his surroundings, still trying to orient himself. He was sitting in an exceptionally nice office. He was seated behind a rather large desk; appearing as if he belonged there. The position of the desk dominated the rest of the room.
Well, this is sure a hell of a lot better than lying against a wall. This office looks familiar in a strange kind of way,
and then it hit him. It was Mr. Yates’s office, only the furnishings were different, very different, but the fancy built-in bookcases of solid cherry were unmistakable. So was the view, as he quickly rotated his chair around and peered out the window.
How is this going to play out?
he thought, a wave of nervousness trying to bubble its way to the surface.

Just then Jack heard a familiar voice call his name. Turning around in the black-leather office chair, he jumped up and sprinted across the office. A huge smile crossing his face, Jack scooped Rene up in his arms, hugging her hard as if he was never going to let go.

Rene returning the hug, giggled at the intensity of it. “Jack, not that I’m complaining but a hug like that makes me feel like I just got back from being lost at sea. We just saw each other last night. I mean I know it was good,” she said beaming. 

Jack continued to squeeze Rene tightly before setting her down and grinning at her. His strong hands were holding both of her wrists gently but firmly as if by letting go she might just disappear. 

Stepping up on her tiptoes Rene kissed him on the forehead. “Are you all right? Aside from the grin you look as if you have seen a ghost.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s a long very unbelievable story.” Holding hands, they walked out of the office into the reception area. His composure starting to come back to him, Jack asked, “So, where are we going to lunch?”

“That’s a good question. I’m not quite sure what I’m in the mood for.”

“Excuse me,” uttered the receptionist Jack had met just a few minutes earlier. “A business associate of yours called a couple of minutes ago, and was very insistent that you lunch at Gianottie’s. You have reservations for twelve-thirty.”

Jack glanced at his watch and then looked at her, puzzled. “What’s the name of this associate? I’d really rather dine alone with Rene.”

“The woman figured you’d say that and simply said to tell you it’s all in the timing, whatever that means. I have to interject this is an interesting place to work so far, nothing is ever ordinary.”

“What do you mean by that?” chimed in Rene.

“Well, for starters getting hired to work for Jack here without ever being interviewed in person seems a little odd.”

“You work for me?” Jack asked perplexed.

“Well, you are Jack Weston, right? It’s your name on the side of the building; Weston Construction Inc.” 

Jack started to respond before noticing the placard on the wall behind the woman. The sign read Weston Construction in bold red letters. A triangular box surrounding the words made for a rather flashy looking logo. “Rene, I think we had better take this mystery person up on her lunch invitation.”

“Sounds good to me, I love Italian food, and for that matter Chinese, Indian, and, well, a little bit of everything,” she said playfully.

*    *    *

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at Gianottie’s. Jack had never eaten there before, but had remembered driving by it a few times and knew where the restaurant was located. Pulling the big green Charger into a parking space across the street, he and Rene headed for the establishment.

“So have you ever been to this place before?” questioned Rene.

“No, can’t say that I have.” Jack tried to sound upbeat even though he was feeling nervous about the whole situation.

The scent of warm garlic bread greeted their noses as they stepped up onto the curb and into the al fresco dining area at the front of the restaurant. The day was warm with a pleasant breeze and the sides of the red and white checkered table cloths billowed invitingly. Jack’s feeling of unease was melting away rapidly.

A man in a crisp black suit stood at the ready, waiting to serve arriving customers. Jack gave his name and the maître d' gestured towards a round table off to the side.

There was a man seated there, his back to them. Jack felt the uneasiness creeping back up inside of him.
Didn’t my secretary say something about meeting with a lady?
Jack just stood there frozen.

“Jack, aren’t we going to sit down?” came Rene’s soft voice.

“Sure,” he replied hesitantly, stepping in front of her and proceeding towards the table.

Before he could go more than a couple of steps a beautiful woman came out of the building, smoothly sauntering between him and the table.

Jack recognized her with a start. It was Angela. She had made it back from the past after all. He sized her up quickly. She was wearing a provocative red dress cut short and tight. Her long dark hair draped down over her shoulders.

Raising up her arm, she placed her right hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Wait a second,” she said coolly. “I need to speak with Rene.”

Rene made a confused face in Jack’s direction. “Do I know you?” she said inquisitively to the woman in red.

“Not yet, but I’m sure you will soon. I’m Angela Torrelli, but for the moment that’s neither here nor there. This may come as quite a shock to you, but the man sitting over at that table is your long lost father.”

Rene started to protest, “This isn’t funny..” Before she could finish her sentence the man seated with his back to them put down his newspaper, standing up and turning to face them. His warm face beamed a smile at Rene. A smile she could never forget, no matter how many years separated them. The truth of the moment hit her like a freight train. “Dad,” she managed to gasp. Her knees started to go weak and Jack quickly wrapped his arm under her shoulder to steady her. “Is it really.?”

He came hustling over quickly, “Yes, it’s really me, my beautiful little Missy.”

She reached her shaky arms out towards him, motioning for a hug.

He quickly obliged, filling her arms and returning the grasp with the kindness and warmth his character always exuded.

They hugged for what seemed like forever with no more words being exchanged. Finally Tim pulled back slightly and began to direct them towards the table.

“Jack, they have a lot to catch up on and I’m sure they won’t miss us for a little bit.” She turned, motioning for Jack to follow her.

Jack glanced at Rene and her dad as they took their seats, then proceeded to follow Angela into the restaurant. The place was very dimly lit, a complete contrast with the bright sunny day transpiring outside. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Angela was already way ahead of him. She had a magic about her, she practically glided along.

He continued to follow as she made her way to a booth in the back corner. The table was decorated with the same cheerful red and white checkered tablecloths as outside. In the center of the table a candle flickered from within a red glass holder. Next to the table was a shiny silver ice bucket with a bottle of bubbly chilling nicely amongst the cubes.