The Lovely Chocolate Mob (32 page)

After a little while, a secretary asked if she could help me. I said, “Yes, I have a two o’clock appointment with the board of trustees.”

“I’ll be happy to introduce you to them, Mr…?”

From behind the magazine, I said, “They already know who I am, but thank you just the same.”

I lowered the magazine to smile in appreciation at the help, but when I did I saw the look of recognition and heard a gasp, and she beat a hasty retreat back to her desk. Now I wished I had worn my wig and dark glasses, but any disguises were left in the trunk of my car back at the medical center. I watched her and hoped she wouldn’t make any phone calls to the authorities. If she did, I estimated they would be there in 15 minutes, and it was still over a half hour until the board meeting.

Another secretary came by to offer me chocolates and a citrus drink. Nice service they had there.

A phone rang, and I looked up; the secretary who noticed me was answering a call, but I didn’t know if she would tell on me or if she had text-messaged somebody. Perhaps the police, or the 9-1-1 operator was verifying she was for real, and that I had been spotted and she’d tell, which would land me in jail for who knows how long. Well, it felt as though it was a good time for a walk.

My mind was going into overdrive, and I got up and walked out of the reception room, into the hallways of the chocolate company. I walked until I come to the end of the hall, then decided to take the elevator to the top floor, which turned out to be the fifth floor. The elevator took me up, opened its doors, spit me out, and I walked around, trying to ease the queazy feeling in my stomach, and found a large pane to view the landscape. This was the height of Lovely Hill, and I looked out into the parking lot and the grounds and beyond, wishing I were in a plane to Hawaii or Tahiti or a tropical island where I’d never be heard from again. After a minute or two of admiring the view, I saw a dozen police cars coming down the main road, pulling into the parking lot of the Lovely Chocolate Factory. My goose was cooked.

There wasn’t much I could do except to finish what I went there to do in the first place. I walked away from the window to go back downstairs, literally. I took the stairs from the fifth to the lower levels, and all the way down I was gaining in daring or desperation, I haven’t learned to tell the difference yet, and by the time I reached the first floor I was ready for a fight. I pushed open the stairway door, strutted up the hallway towards the reception room, and walked directly into the boardroom. All the faces looked up, surprised to see me barge in like I did; they had started their board meeting early, as they had before. The CEO, Hal Ostrander, said, “Mr. Smith, I presume? You’re early.” I looked at my watch and said, “Oh, yes. I’m early. I’m sorry for that; my watch has been running ahead of me. I didn’t mean to interfere with your meeting.” I looked around the room and saw the look of people who didn’t recognize me as Mr. Smith, but instead as the face recently broadcast on all the television sets in Lovely, instead. I also spotted the lone woman in purple, sitting half way down the members to my right. She was also surprised to see me, I could tell.

“I need to apologize to the board. As you can see, I’m not wearing my glasses or a wig or a beard today. I am Mr. Smith, who came to you with a company problem recently. Actually, my real name isn’t John Smith. I still prefer to remain anonymous, and if anybody asks about the man resembling John Smith, please say he was never here.”

This confused the board; they all knew who I was but that didn’t matter because I didn’t want to explain myself any further to them. I focused on the one board member who I felt I knew, who was a member of another board, and said, “I didn’t really have much to say today, except to give you an update on the situation with Susan Lovely and… the issue we spoke about in the last meeting.” Looking around the room, I only saw confusion and heard silence from the members, who were trying to make sense out of what I’d just said.

I continued, “Okay, that’s all I had to say, except… I’m going to go and visit the little boy’s room right now. I still need to meet with some high upper-ups here, but first I’m going to hit the ‘john’ just like… the last time I was here. I hope I can meet with the people I need to meet with.” I said this slowly and deliberately as I was looking at her, her eyes being glued to mine; she didn’t flinch or say a word but looked almost frightened. “Don’t worry,” I thought, “I’m not going to rat you out in front of all these board members; it’s just that I need to see you as soon as possible.” I hoped she could read my rushed and confused mind.

I stepped back out into the reception area and walked down the hallway towards the workroom floor. I saw policemen coming from the outside towards the main entrance, and I pushed the entrance door open and walked into the work area next to the workers and conveyor belts as though I belonged there, and headed straight for the men’s room. I pushed open the men’s room door, walked through the little locker room, back to the row of stalls, and went to the middle stall, just as I had the last time, and I shut and locked the door, just like before. This time I was standing, however. Whatever the future held, I’d meet it standing up.

I waited in the men’s room and looked at my watch. It was almost 2:00, and I was still looking at it when five, then ten minutes, ticked by. I could hear a lot of commotion out on the workroom floor; the cops must have been casing the joint looking for me. They won’t have a very hard time finding me; I’ll bet at least 100 workroom floor employees saw me duck in here.

The men’s room door opened and people came filing in. They were quiet, too quiet; maybe they were policemen with guns drawn. They wouldn’t know that I wasn’t armed on the inside of this stall; they could fill it full of lead before I was able to say anything. What a way to meet the end, dying in a hail of bullets in the middle stall of the men’s room. Dick Tracy used to refer to that as the ”hot-lead exit.”

Feet gathered around the stall, including a pair of women’s purple shoes, then the lights went out.

“Senior Owen?” a Spanish-accented voice asked.

“Si?” I said, before realizing I was speaking Spanish.

“You have information for us?”

“Yes, if you’re who I think you are. Is ‘Agent Huebner’ with you?”

“I’m here,” said a familiar voice. “My name’s not really ‘Huebner,’ by the way.”

“That’s okay; I don’t want to know who you are. I have information which I think you’ll want to hear.”

“We’re all ears, Mr. Owen.”

I had to talk quickly. “Before the cops haul me away, I need to tell you this: That Dr. Burke had nothing to do with the death of Cornelius Lovely, and that he had nothing to do with the stealing of Susan Lovely’s inheritance, and I think any romance between the two has been broken.”

“Jah, Herr Owen. Now you haff told us that,” said the east German voice, slipping into his own natural accent. “How do ve know you are telling us the truth?”

“Because Dr. Burke told me that Cornelius Lovely died of natural causes, of advanced old age,” I said.

There was a moment of silence, and a little murmuring, so I said, “He was a millionaire chocolate maker before any of you were born!"

“Si, what you say is true,” said the Italian voice. “We knew he was not long for this world; however, it was hard for us since we regarded him somewhat as a father figure.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was hard for you,” I offered. “But he was Dr. Burke's patient, and the only thing he could do was to make him comfortable and keep him pain-free with morphine.”

“Tell me, how do you know all of this, Mr. Owen?” said the low-speaking woman’s British-accented voice, who was fooling nobody.

“Dr. Burke has been staying at my house for the past month; we’ve had plenty of time to talk. He’s innocent of stealing any money.”

There was some murmuring, and then silence, when a voice asked, “If he didn’t take it, who did?”

“I know who did, but I don’t want to tell you about it.”

“You need to tell us all you know, Mr. Owen.”

“I’ll let him tell you, himself.” I took the small battery out of my pocket and placed it back into the cell phone, hoping it was fully charged. I dialed Walter’s cell phone, also hoping he’d pick up.

“Hello, Randall?” he answered.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m going to place you on speakerphone, do you understand?”

“Speakerphone? Why?” asked Walter.

“Because there are people here who need to hear what you have to say.”

“Well, if you’re going to put me on speakerphone, I’m going to do the same with you.”

At that point, we put each other on speakerphone.

“Are these good people, or are they bad people?” asked Walter.

I heard a few chuckles outside the stall.

“These are people who are interested in the truth,” I said.

“Do I need to swear on a Bible?” asked Walter, with a straight voice.

“No, this isn’t a court setting,” I said, assuring him.

“Oh, you’re with
those
people. Okay, I’ll talk.”

“Now, I haven’t said your name. They don’t know who you are. They only want to know what you did, concerning the inheritance of Susan Lovely.”

“Oh, no problem! I stole it!”

“No, you didn’t steal it.”

“That’s right,” said Walter. I ‘borrowed’ it.”

“Ask him how he did it!” said the Spanish voice.

“Did you hear that?”

“I heard it,” said Walter. I held the cell phone straight up, so it’s light at least could be viewed, and Walter spoke louder, so as to be heard by all, “I intercepted the funds when they were being transferred from Old Man Lovely’s account to Susan’s account. I had all the bank and account numbers; it was nothing for me to set my computer on ‘intercept’ mode, and wait. I was asleep when the transaction took place!” Obviously, Walter was proud of his work.

“Ask him where the money is now!” said the Italian voice.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yes. I routed some of it to the Cayman Islands, some of it to a Swiss bank account, some of it to offshore accounts, and some of to Chinese and Russian banks. I had to break it all up so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.”

“Bring him in,” said the British voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said. “However, let me assure you that his motive wasn’t stealing… would you tell the audience why you purloined the funds?”

“Yes, I’ll tell them. But first of all, I’ll tell them my name. I’m Walter Dale, technicians expert. And I don’t ‘steal’ anything; when I want something, I pay for it!”

The voices got a little restless, as though they were confused. Some sounded angry.

“Walter, tell them why you did it.”

“I did it because Dr. Burke was getting involved with a rich girl who wasn’t his wife, so I wanted to make her look less desirable to him, so I ‘
borrowed
,’ heavy emphasis on the ‘
borrowed
,’ the money. I had and have every intention of giving it back!”

In the background, the voice of Dr. Franklin Burke was heard to say, “First you blew up my car and then you stole Susan’s money?”

Walter’s voice replied, “No, first I
borrowed
Susan’s money,
then
I blew up your car!”

The deep voiced woman asked, “Why did he blow up Dr. Burke’s car?”

I replied, “Because he knew you were going to kill him, and he got to the doctor first! He made it look as though he’d been killed by somebody, giving him time to disappear.”

“And they’ve been hiding at your house ever since?” asked the woman’s voice.

“Yes, I’ve been keeping them there. But let me add one more thing, an answer to the third point I brought up.”

“Yes, Herr Owen?” said the east German.

“Dr. Burke has been through a lot these past few weeks even though he’s innocent of murder, and innocent of stealing. His only real crime is that he allowed himself to become involved with a woman who has since thrown him over. Have you been watching the local news?”

“Jah, ve haf been following the reports of Miss Darla Bell ov KDBC; oh, baby!” giggled the east German.

“Heinrich!” said the woman’s voice.

“No names!” added a Russian voice.

“It seems that Susan Lovely has transferred her affections from Dr. Burke to her pool boy, Julio,” said a very British-sounding voice.

“It’s doubtful that Susan Lovely was ever serious about Dr. Burke, given how she was so quick to believe his guilt. However, he is innocent,” I said. “Furthermore, Dr. Burke has been receiving marital counseling for the past few weeks, and he and his wife have been making good progress.”

“I would say those are points in his favor,” said the Italian voice. “However, will he become involved with Susan Lovely anytime in the future?”

“No. No, I’m through with Susan,” said the doctor’s voice. “I was a fool. I’ve failed my wife and kids. I’m sorry.”

There was a little murmuring among the men. The Caribbean voice said, “Me next!” and the other male voices laughed. The British voice replied to the Caribbean, “Sorry, old chap, you’re too late. Julio is one of us.”

“Silence!” said the deep-voiced woman.

Then she spoke again. “What of the money? Can this Walter Dale replace the lost inheritance to Susan Lovely?”

“That’s a 10-4, big sister!” said Walter’s voice. “Give me five minutes!”

“Five minutes? Who has a watch?” asked the Spanish voice.

“I’ve got one,” I said.

“Your friend has five minutes. ‘Agent Belken,’ check the accounts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then I heard noises which sounded like a revolver being cocked.

“What’s that noise?” I asked.

“It’s my laptop computer being opened up,” said ‘Agent Belken.’ Then more sounds followed, the sound of the beep of a computer being turned on.

There were noises coming from my cell phone as well, the sound of a heavy door opening and slamming, of a quick run, and the beep-beep of an automatic vehicle key starting and unlocking a recreational vehicle. I supposed that Walter needed his motorhome running to power his computers.

“Vell, Herr Owen,” said Heinrich. It seems we have five minutes to kill. I am curious. Tell me, why did you come here for Dr. Burke?”