The Lovely Chocolate Mob (26 page)

Helen’s fate would be decided in the court of public opinion before she even had a day in court: oh, those poor children.

I reached home, worn out by the day’s activities, and walked up the steps to my simple little home. It was a good thing the neighborhood wasn’t crowded and the houses were spaced far apart because I didn’t feel like talking to anybody just then. All I wanted to do was to get ready for the next day; I even looked forward to the routine of work again. I also needed to phone Miss Planter and tell her how everything worked out, but then decided against that because the telephone was an easy piece of equipment to tap; no, I didn’t trust the telephone. I needed to tell her face-to-face how this dark day played out.

It had been a terrible day. One death, a shattered family, a wife and mother possibly framed for murder, how could Helen defend herself?

Entering the house, I could see Walter sitting on the couch. I shut the door behind me and said, “It’s been a bad day, Walter.”

Walter replied, “I figured that from the way you looked. You can tell me all about it, but first let me ask you a favor. You think you could use a boarder for a couple of days?”

This was a bit confusing, so I said, “You’re already in the house; what do you mean?” and then I stopped speaking because as I looked over at the easy chair, there was Dr. Franklin Burke, sitting, alive and wide-eyed as if he had no idea what was going on.

“What? What’s this?” I exclaimed. “How did this happen?”

“Now take it easy, Randall. You’ll hear soon enough.”

“How is he still alive?” I asked. He’s supposed to be dead! I saw them take Helen away in a squad car!”

“They think Helen killed me?” said Dr. Burke. “How do you know this?”

“I drove by your house and I saw them hauling her away; I had tried to warn you earlier but…”

“You know about that; I told you that,” said Walter to Dr. Burke. “I didn’t know the cops got hold of Helen, though.”

“What’s he doing here?” I asked Walter, hoping to get some clear answers.

“Now, let’s just all calm down, and I’ll answer all questions,” he said. “Let’s have a drink!”

That was something we all could agree on; I was beginning to favor the idea of alcohol, so we moved 10 feet into the kitchen area and sat around the table. I was a little bit flustered but figured I could wait to hear how Dr. Franklin Burke escaped death at the hands of the cartel. We drank a bit; Walter and Dr. Burke had a few beers; I remained the teetotaler. I wanted to be sharp when I heard the explanations.

“Okay, Randall, here sits Dr. Burke. He’s alive. He needs a place to stay for a few days. Can he impose on you?”

“I see that he’s alive. What I want to know is… if he’s here, who got blown up at the hospital?”

“Oh!” said Walter. “Well, nobody really. A dummy was sitting in his car when it went up.”

“A dummy?” I asked. “You mean to tell me that there are cops and firemen poring over the death of some store mannequin?”

“A crash-test dummy…,” offered Walter.

“…poring over the death of a crash-test dummy? What happens when they find out Dr. Burke isn’t in the car? There’ll be a county-wide search, and what happens when they find him here?”

“They’re not going to find him here,” said Walter.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Easy,” he said. “They’ll be watching his home, looking in hospitals and any properties he used to own, his boat, and checking his itinerary; there’s nothing to connect him to you. They’ll be looking through his upper-crust friends, of which you ain’t one.”

I stopped and thought about all Walter had told me. I trusted Walter, but sometimes he did things a little out of the ordinary. Dr. Burke remained silent and drank his beer, watching the two of us.

“Okay, okay, he can stay here. But how did you keep him from getting blown up? There are people out there who’ve got his number!”

“You’re talking about the cartel.” I looked at Walter. “I know all about that,” he said.

“How? How do you…?” I stopped and stood up. I checked my pockets, my belt, belt buckle, jacket pockets, tie. “How do you know all this stuff?” I asked again.

“It’s behind your lapel,” said Walter. “No, your left one.”

I checked behind my jacket lapel, on my left, not his, and there it was, pinned into the jacket. A tiny microphone, with a wire going up a few inches, also pinned in place. It was so light I didn’t even feel it.

“That’s how you knew I needed to call Miss Planter,” I remarked, surprised he would wire me.

“Yes, and also how I found out about the cartel.”

“What cartel?” said Franklin. “Who are these people?”

“These are people who are very mad at you for seeing Susan Lovely,” I said. Franklin looked up quickly, like a deer in the headlights. “They don’t like you getting too close to her and her billions. You’re treading in dangerous waters.”

“How do you know this? How did you know about Susan and me?” he asked.

“We found out when people started talking. Don’t get defensive; we already know all about it. What you don’t know is that there are those who want to kill you for it.”

“Why do they want to kill me? What have I done to them?” said Franklin, almost pleading.

“You’re disrupting their plans for Susan Lovely. They’re afraid if you make her look bad in public, it will hurt the company she’s associated with. And they don’t want that.”

“You mean the ‘Happy Hippy Bikini Company?’ But she hasn’t done any work for them in a long time!” said Dr. Burke.

“No,” said Walter, “He means the Lovely Chocolate Factory.” Franklin looked over to Walter as though he didn’t believe it. Walter continued, “It’s true; there’s a multi-national group that has infiltrated the company and will do anything to make and keep it successful, and that includes bumping-off any ‘problems.’ Get my drift, Dr. Problem?”

“I’m getting the picture. I’m the target,” said Dr. Burke. “I should have listened when they… What about Susan? Is she in danger?”

“No, I’m sure she’s not in any danger,” continued Walter. “They want to keep her healthy and wealthy and in good stead.”

Franklin leaned back in his chair. “That’s good,” he said. Walter and I looked at Dr. Burke. He was genuinely concerned about his girlfriend, even though he had just narrowly escaped death just a few hours earlier.

I turned to Walter. “How did you get to him before the cartel did? How did you save him?”

“Well, after hearing the discussions of the cartel concerning Dr. Burke from the mike…”--he pointed to my lapel-- “…I decided the best course of action was to grab him in order to help him lay low for a few days, until all the hostilities blow over. A diversion was needed, and so…”--he stopped for a moment and looked at Dr. Burke-- “…I blew up his car.”

Franklin Burke quickly sat up. “
You
blew up my Mercedes-Benz?” he asked.

“Why, who do you think put the crash-test dummy in your seat?” asked Walter, amazed Dr. Burke hadn’t put the pieces together. Obviously ”logic” wasn’t on the curriculum at medical school.

“He was trying to save your life, Dr. Burke,” I pitched in.

Dr. Burke sat back in his chair. “Sorry,” he said. Then, in a quieter tone: “You blew up my Mercedes-Benz?”

“Yes,” said Walter. “I had to do it; it was the only thing I could think of in the few minutes I had to apprehend you.”

“And you put a dummy in the driver’s seat, in order to throw the cops and firemen off track?” Dr. Burke asked.

“Yes,” Walter said. “I figured if they could see somebody or something in the car, they’d mistake it for a body. Of course it would only be for a few moments, an hour at the most, until they could put the fire out and get to it. Bet they’re mad as hornets right now!” Walter threw his head back and laughed at the thought of it. “Haw-haw-haawww! All them civil servants mad with nobody to blame, and no body to claim, haw-haw-hawww!”

I said to Walter, “You know the hospital parking lot has security cameras, right?”

“Sometimes they do,” chuckled Walter. “It doesn’t take long to disable a camera from behind.” And with that he laughed some more.

Then I thought about something else. “You don’t normally have a bomb available on a moment’s notice?”

Walter stopped laughing for a moment and remarked, with a straight face, “Sometimes.” He didn’t retain his straight face for long and went back to laughing.

“I’m going to need for you to park your RV further from the house, at least on the other side of the pine trees,” I said, “for safety’s sake.”

Dr. Burke asked, “How did you get a crash-test dummy in such a short time?”

Walter quit laughing and replied, “It’s a big RV, and sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Dr. Burke and I looked at each other while Walter continued, “But weep not; he led a full life and had a useful death; I will cherish his memory.”

Dr. Burke looked worried. “The police are probably blaming me right now for faking my death. How am I going to explain this to the hospital, to my patients, my peers?”

“When the members of the gang find out, they’ll be looking for you as well,” I said. “There’s too much going on. We’ll figure all that out later; the first thing we’ve got to do now is to keep you safe and out of sight. You take the couch; there are some extra pillows and blankets in the hall closet. I’ve got to hit the sack; it’s been a long day, and now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to get to sleep after this.”

Walter started his laughing again. He was still laughing when I went to bed. I hoped the authorities didn’t catch up to us; I had a feeling they’d throw away the key.

Early in the morning my cell phone rang. I reached for it, picked it up, and viewed it; it was from Helen. I didn’t know what to say; how was I to explain to Helen that her once presumed dead and now-missing husband was sleeping in my living room/den at that very moment? I was fuzzy-minded and decided not to answer it and let it keep ringing until it stopped. I heard it beep again, telling me that a message had been left to my in-box. I couldn’t trust the phone or the airwaves just then; I probably needed to tell her face-to-face what had developed. Until then, it was just best to not answer the phone and include her in our mix-up. The police or FBI or the cartel (or Walter!) could be listening in, and I had spilled too many secrets already. Rolling over, I went back to sleep.

A few hours later I awoke feeling rested and got up to make breakfast for Walter, my new guest, and myself. Trying not to make too much noise, I walked into the kitchen through the dark and could hear Dr. Burke snoring on the couch; at least he was getting a sound sleep. I made bacon and eggs and had orange juice for myself and was sure to make plenty for my two guests. I heard the snoring stop, and then the stirring start up. I was eating at the kitchen table; the only light on was from the vent-a-hood in the kitchen. Dr. Burke stumbled into the kitchen/dining area.

“Something smells good!” he said.

“I made extra; get yourself a plate and have some breakfast.”

Turning on the overhead kitchen light, he found his plate and glass and utensils, then joined me at the table.

“Thanks for putting me up,” he said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“I can think of a way,” I said.

“What’s that?” he said, stopping in the middle of a bite.

“I have a friend who’s a counselor. I’d like for you and Helen to schedule an appointment for marriage counseling.”

He put his fork back down on the plate, saying, “Oh, now come on! I was hoping it was something I could do for you, like medical advice, or treatment, lend you money, or… mow your lawn, for Pete’s sake!” Guess what I said made him lose his appetite.

“My yard is cut, and you need to stay inside,” I said. Besides, your marriage is more important than my lawn. I’m in fairly good shape, for my age, and from what I understand, you don’t have any money to be lending anybody.”

Dr. Burke looked at me with a puzzled look and said, “Now, how did you find that out?”

“I’ve heard things, seen things, and came to that conclusion all by myself. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“Well, how did you figure it out?” asked Dr. Burke, curious how someone would know of his financial situation.

“Let’s review,” I said. “You live in the nicer section of town, you have a wife who doesn’t work, you have kids…”

“How did you know Helen doesn’t work?” Dr. Burke asked. “You seem to know a lot about my business.”

Maybe I had spoken too much. Thinking quickly, I said, “I’ve seen Helen in the newspaper. She volunteers for every do-good organization in town. With all that volunteering, who has time for work?”

Thinking on this for a moment, Dr. Burke said, “That makes sense.” He went back to eating. “Yes, I am currently experiencing a financial setback.”

“I imagine I’ll know a whole lot more about you in the next few days,” I said.

“So why do you want me to see a marriage counselor?” asked Dr. Burke.

“To help preserve your family, to save your marriage, to give your children a fighting chance in this world to grow up in stability, and most of all…” I paused, for dramatic effect.

“Most of all, what?” he said.

“Most of all, to pay me back, which is what you said you wanted to do.”

Franklin Burke sat there, going through all the reasons poured on him, and said, “All right, Randall Owen. I’ll do it. I do owe you.”

“Good,” I said. “I’ll talk to the counselor later. In the meantime, lay low for a while. You need to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Nobody can know you’re here. If anybody finds out, it could mean the end of you, and maybe me, too. You don’t want me to get killed for protecting you, do you?”

“No… I guess not.”

“That means no phone calls. I’ll need your cell phone.”

“I don’t have it; Walter took it from me when he brought me here.”

“What did he do with it?”

“I think he took the battery out of it, he said something about triangulation.”

Good for Walter. “Well, don’t be contacting anybody. Don’t use my hard-line phone, and don’t be calling Helen or especially that Susan Lovely. I don’t want them to know you’re here and I don’t want the police, the FBI, or the cartel knowing you’re here. I know you’ll be able to make contact if you want to, but it’s best you don’t. The whole world is after you, it seems.”