The Lovely Chocolate Mob (7 page)

“You know, I have a real interest in day lilies. I’d like to see some of them real soon. Tell you what, I’ll drop in sometime and you can show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, Randall! Well, hey, I’ve got to get back to work. I look forward to seeing you!”

After work, I drove to Byers’ Florist and looked around. Gary was in the back work area, cutting and mounting flowers and tying ribbons and bows to them, arranging and making them look desirable for the ladies. I guess some people liked buying flowers. I walked back to the work area.

“Hey, Gary!” I said, “How’s it going?”

“Hello, Randall! Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

He stood up from where he was sitting, came over to me and shook my hand. “Let’s go to the back,” he said, “I want to show you some of those lilies we talked about.”

We walked to the far back of the shop, out the back door and into a greenhouse. It was a nice temperature in there, so I didn’t mind. I usually liked doing my business indoors, away from the sun, but all the flowers and climate controlled atmosphere made it kind of nice. Gary walked over to a corner and turned on a CD player, and cranked up the volume. Fortunately, it was classical music. Must have been for the employees while they’re working out back, or maybe it was for the flowers to help them grow. I wouldn’t know, but I guessed giving the plants music beat spending time talking to them.

Gary came over and said, “Okay, we can talk now. Sorry about all the cloak and dagger.”

“That’s okay, Gary. I’m getting used to it. The older we get, the more we seem to do this kind of thing.”

“You just can’t be too careful; you never know who’s listening.” He looked around as though he was searching for somebody with a camera. “Were you followed here?”

I chuckled at that, but said with a straight face, “No, nobody followed me. I’m not in any trouble, so nobody wants anything to do with me.”

“That’s good to know,” he said. He pulled up a stool and sat down. I don’t think he liked to stand too much, since I’m sure he was always on the move in this job. He probably sat down every chance he got, like I do; I decided to follow suit, so I pulled up a stool as well. Gary looked at me, and said, “I don’t know where Walter is these days. He’s been kind of hard to find since his release. He took a hard fall, and I think he’s embarrassed that he hasn’t been able to get back into the corporate world, now that he has a record, even with all his expertise.”

I nodded, and added, “He said he was going to lay low until his parole was over. That time has passed.”

“I’ll put the word out that you’d like to speak with him,” said Gary, “but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I may not have any need with him. It’s a concern I have; it’s nothing pressing.”

Since that was out of the way, we talked about people we knew, schoolmates, old girlfriends, old teachers, for about 20 minutes, reliving our youthful days. Gary was a businessman now, and I didn’t blame him for being careful. He had to keep himself far from being associated with controversial and shady characters, and I guess Walter had somewhat of a reputation for being a character, although I felt he had been misunderstood. Nobody understands genius; they’re labeled as ”eccentrics,” which serves to isolate them socially.

I finally got up to leave, and Gary walked me to the front of the store, talking all the way. He probably didn’t get many schoolmates and old friends here at his business; it must be lonely at times although he does have much of his extended family here with him. He’d become a family man, and had to be thinking about them as well; it wasn’t just about himself anymore. It’s good to see that in a person; Gary had become a humble man looking after his kin.

I went home to get something to eat and catch some shut-eye; the next day was Saturday and so I’d be able to relax and mow the yard or not, clean up around the house or not, or just sleep late, or not. I got home, turned on the television; I didn’t watch it much anymore, but wanted to hear some noise in the house, in the background, because I usually spend my time on the computer. Speaking of which, I decided to type in the name “Susan Lovely” on the search engine to see what would show up about Dr. Franklin Burke’s maybe/perhaps girlfriend.

I found what Helen had told me, that Susan Lovely was 37 years old, no longer a child, no longer a young adult, but a lady who was now in middle age territory. She’d never been married and had no kids, which was kind of unusual for a rich and beautiful woman like herself. Surely there would have been sharks or gold-diggers or suitors who would have swept her off her feet, years ago. Wonder why that never happened. She had a pretty portrait photograph…

The cell phone rang and I picked it up. A strange voice said, “I hear you’re looking for me?” It had an electronic, tinny quality to it, with no inflection or accent. I said, “I think I’m looking for you if you’re who I think you are.”

“I’m probably who you think I am. Let’s meet. Leave your house and walk to the Janet Field park. Take your phone with you.”

It was getting late, but I didn’t want to miss this meeting. It was 8:30 p.m. and dark already, so I took a flashlight and lightweight jacket.

Leaving the house, I walked about a quarter mile until reaching the park, where the cell phone rang. I took the phone off my belt and said, “Hello?”

“Now walk to the Dairy Queen,” said the tinny voice. “Don’t go in. Stand at the curb. Should take you about five minutes to get there.”

Good thing I didn’t mind walking at night. I followed the instructions of the electronic voice, and headed to the neighborhood DQ. I slowed down as I got near and looked around. Since it was Friday night, many of the townsfolk were out with their children buying ice cream. My cell phone rang again, and the voice said, “Walk to the post office.”

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” I said.

“I know, sorry, but this is how it’s got to be.”

So I walked a few blocks to the local post office, a little further down the street and just around the corner. There was minimal traffic and I was soon out in front of the small government building. I hoped I wouldn’t get mugged; this part of town wasn’t exactly the newest addition to the city.

As I looked around, I saw headlights coming my way. It looked huge, and turned out to be an RV camper; it made its way up the street and stopped directly in front of me. I could see that there was a man in the driver’s seat with glasses, thick eyebrows, big nose and mustache, all in one piece since it was a disguise, who leaned out his side window and said, “Get in, quick!”

Once in the passenger’s seat, I said, “Walter, I’m guessing that’s you behind those spectacles.”

The man behind the steering wheel held up his finger in front of his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. “Not even close, mister,” he said.

He looked straight ahead and drove well within the speed limit, like an old retired man in his recreational vehicle, like someone who was traveling on the road in strange territory. He signaled every turn, observed all stop signs and lights, and within ten minutes slowly steered the large vehicle to the south and out of the city.

When trees appeared, the driver took the glasses and nose off and said, “Hello, Randall! How have you been? Long time no see!” It was Walter Dale, after all.

“Can we talk now?” I asked. Walter nodded while looking ahead. “I’m doing well, thanks. Haven’t seen you in a while either, but then again, I don’t know where to look!”

Walter liked that and laughed a bit.

“I understand you wanted to see me,” he said. “Got something needs handling? Something broke? What?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep up with him, hoping he wouldn’t get too far ahead of me. “I did and I do. But first… how did you get my cell phone number? It’s brand new, I upgraded only last week, and it came with a new number!”

“Heh-heh-heh! Trade secrets, Randy boy; I can’t be telling all I know; in my business, knowledge is money!”

“Hmmmmm” I pondered. I got that cell phone so I’d have a little more privacy from work; they only had my hard line number, and I haven’t had the chance to share my cell number with friends yet. Walter somehow got it, but at least he knows how to keep a secret. “Okay, you,” I finally sputtered. Walter laughed a little more and kept driving.

Walter’s a strange creature. Although I find him easy to get along with, those with a certain social standard cringe when they’re around him. They know his priorities are not shared around the “upper-crust, high-society” minded, so they tend to avoid him. He also speaks his mind, which has gotten him into trouble more than once. I suspected he was currently between jobs, and probably living in this RV.

“Why did you have me walk all over the neighborhood? I appreciate the exercise, but it’s dark outside, and you don’t always know who’s lurking around out there.”

“Don’t worry Randy,” he grinned. “I had you in sight most of the time.”

I thought back quickly, and said, “I didn’t see you, and this vehicle would be hard to miss.”

“I didn’t have you in eyesight,” he replied, “but you were on the screen right here,” and reaching towards the dashboard, he turned on a built-in screen display, which showed a bird’s-eye satellite view of the neighborhood I had just walked. I could see the tops of people’s heads as they moved on the sidewalk nearby what I took to be the Dairy Queen. Even at night people were visible, their body-heat making a glow on the screen.

I studied it for a moment and heard myself say, “Impressive.” With that Walter grinned; he was waiting for that; he wasn’t hard to please.

We drove in silence for the next few minutes, until we turned onto a gravel road, which led down a path between trees and tall grass, and pulled up to a country bar and grill, with a neon sign which read “Estella’s,” whom I assumed to be the owner. The place was so far away from the city that it was probably frequented by bikers and ranchers, farmers and country folks. From the looks of the parking lot, it didn’t seem very crowded, and Walter parked near the road. The parking lot was also made of gravel, and we had a long walk to the building. I saw a few motorcycles, and hoped there wouldn’t be any young toughs looking for trouble. I asked Walter about this, and he remarked that the bikers here were older fellows who liked peace and quiet like most people in our age group.

I admired the motorcycles for a moment but made sure not to touch them. As we turned to enter the establishment, I asked Walter about the silent treatment in the city. He said, “I don’t like to talk much on the city streets; cops have radar guns, and sound guns, like the ones used in televised football games, exist. It wouldn’t be too hard to put the two in one contraption. There are lots of cops in the city but not many out here.”

This made sense, in a way. “So when did cops become the enemy?” I asked.

“Cops aren’t the enemy per se,” answered Walter, “They work for the enemy, the government. The Man. The Elite. Big Brother. The Watchers. The…”

“I get the idea,” I said, interrupting his flow. “You don’t like being monitored. Well, nobody does.”

We walked into the bar and took a booth far away from anybody. The place was bigger than it looked on the outside, and had a homey, pleasant appeal, with lots of wood paneling, wood tables, wood chairs, a small stage, and a wide open middle wooden floor (for dancing, I presumed). There were a few pool tables at the far end of the place, but they weren’t being used at the moment. It was a little dark, but thank goodness it seemed to be clean. Someone put a quarter in the jukebox and an old but pleasant Beatles’ song played, “If I fell in love with you…,” a mournful tune.

“We can talk freely in here,” said Walter. “The jukebox plays continually, and I’ve swept the place for bugs more than once.”

“I assume you mean microphones,” I joked, hoping to make Walter laugh. I failed this time.

“This is a clean establishment,” he said with a straight face. “You could eat off the floor here.”

“I see. Well. Maybe I’ll do that sometime.”

“I know the owners,” he said. “They’re good people, not riff-raff.”

“It was just a joke,” I replied, beginning to understand Walter had emotional ties to this place.

This was about all the small talk and chit-chat that Walter could handle; he wanted to get to the matter at hand, because that was his nature. He looked around the room, and seeing very few people and nobody within earshot, turned back to me and said, “Why did you need to see me?”

I cleared my throat; I’d need that and a clear mind for this sales pitch. “Well, Walter, I have a problem, and I have a need for a man with special talents, you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what this problem is all about, and then we can decide if I want to get involved in this or not?” he said.

Fair enough. Without mentioning any names, I told Walter the story of an old friend who was having family troubles, who suspected her husband of having an affair with a younger, richer woman. I told him of what I’d found in a quick search on the internet, and mentioned that I wasn’t very deep into this problem yet, since I was still digging for information. I did mention that the girl in question’s name was Susan Lovely.

“Susan Lovely?” Walter suddenly sat up. “Heir to the Lovely chocolate empire?”

I was beginning to see that Susan Lovely would soon become a household name in Lovely; I was surprised that Walter knew of her; I probably shouldn’t have been. “Tell me what you know about her, Walter.”

Walter dived in, “I don’t know much about her except that she’s a hot mama. Have you seen her in commercials? Man oh man, she’s built like a brick outhouse, and I’m cleaning up my language here for you, Randall-boy.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked. “And is she really built as you say?”

“She used to be a model, didn’t you know that? And that included bikini modeling, for the ‘Happy Hippy’ Swimwear Company, woo-wee! She made the products look good. ‘Happy Hippy’ sold more with her as their model than with any other girl before her! With her as their semi-spokeslady, tie-dyed bikinis made a come-back.”

Well, I had seen that she was a pretty girl, but didn’t stop to think about her being a bikini-clad homewrecker.