The Wallet

by Roger Rapel

  I said to Marsha ‘this has been a great evening thank you for the company and the help with my research. What time shall I come to the office in the morning?’ ‘Be there for about 9.30 that will give me time to look at any overnight issues that may need some research.’ ‘That will do nicely.’ Marsha called for the bill and left the correct money, I dropped twenty bucks as a tip. I never saw the cost of the bill, but it looked hefty. I smiled to myself as I thought, wined and dined by a pretty lady and no bill at the end.

  We got outside and chatted for a couple of minutes, I thanked her for a lovely evening then shook her hand and pecked her on the cheek. I then had a good sniff of her perfume, now that was expensive. It certainly hit the right spot, as I said ‘wow that’s nice perfume, really nice.’ ‘You like it?’ ‘I surely do, that could do things to a man.’ She laughed as we parted and waved as we went our separate ways.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I booked into a motel where I lay on the bed as I thought of my night with Marsha. Then my thoughts drifted to Angela and wondered how she’d got on with Christopher and her impression of him; then I eventually dropped off.

  In the morning I awoke having had a strange dream, but like most dreams it drifted away the more I tried to remember it. There was a mist forming over the dream, it was going further and further into the distance. Although I had some memory, it was about Angela; I needed to call her, something inside me was telling me to call her, call her now.

  I showered and shaved then took Angela’s business card from my wallet and called the number. The phone was answered by someone I thought was her secretary. I asked to speak with Angela. I confirmed my name and my previous visit with her.

  The voice on the other end of the phone coughed then I heard a sniff ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Angela is dead.’ ‘What, I was only talking to her a couple of days ago she was going to visit a friend of mine in hospital, oh my god how did she die.’ ‘It was horrible I’m not supposed to say anything, but she had been attacked by some mad man who had cut her up into pieces.’ Then the woman burst into tears then said ‘the police want all the numbers of her contacts recently.’ I passed on my contact number and details.

  I sat on the bed and looked at my hands, they were shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe what I had just been told; Angela dead, cut to pieces by a madman. I should have asked where this happened and how they knew it was a man.

  I called back to Angela’s office, I needed to know where she died and how did they know it was man. I redialled the number, the phone answered, it wasn’t the same voice, it was the voice of the secretary I had spoken too when on my original appointment, to see Angela.

  I couldn’t understand what was going on. ‘Is Angela there please?’ ‘Who’s speaking?’ I gave her my details ‘okay just putting you through.’ ‘Hello, that was lucky I just had a cancellation for a telephone consultation. Okay with regard to Christopher you were right I have been given the run around no one will admit to him having been arrested and being in any mental institution. The hospital you gave me has never heard of him or so they say, so I’m sorry nothing to report.’ I thanked her for her time and informed her I would also do some research of my own and get back to her.

  After I put the phone down I lay back on the bed with my head going around in circles, what the fuck was going on, Angela dead, then not dead, Christopher not in hospital. Then I thought, oh my god he’s on the run, he’s escaped and no one wants to admit he’s gone. In the police’s eyes he was a danger, so why hadn’t they confirmed he had gone? Nothing made any sense to me.

  Then I heard a voice in my head a distant voice, the voice of a woman saying softly Angela. I looked around to see a veil of mist leaving my mouth then a vision of Angela appeared. The vision said ‘take me, I want you, take me, make love to me I want you.’ I was in a daze then the vision turned to mist and was absorbed back in my mouth again.

  I jolted as the mist went back inside me, what had just happened? Was this all part of a dream a nightmare? It can’t be real can it? My head was now aching with the thoughts and the vision I just had. Then I stood up and gave myself a god talking to as I dressed and checked-out.

  I drove to meet Marsha at her offices, there was no way I was going to mention this to her, she would have definitely thought I was a nutter. It was bad enough with the Molly’s kitchen scenario, never mind Angela and the vision I had just seen, that would’ve had her calling the men in white coats to take me away.

  I arrived at the offices of the Daily Bugle. It somehow looked and seemed different, I didn’t know what it was, but it was different. I entered through the main entrance the ornate brass handles were the same, but when inside I immediately noticed it wasn’t where I had been yesterday, it was now clean and tidy, the floors were clean the walls weren’t dirty.

  I was met by a receptionist ‘yes how may I help you?’ ‘I have come to carry on with my interview with Marsha.’ The receptionist looked at me as if I was stupid. ‘Sorry there is no one by that name working here.’ ‘Can I speak with the editor then please?’ ‘He is a very busy man; can I ask who is calling?’ I gave her my details as she picked up her desk phone and said ‘he’ll give you five minutes, the second door on the right down the hall.’

  I walked down the hallway, this wasn’t the building I was in yesterday, there was no mezzanine floor; there was no grime and dirt, also there was no clattering of a printing press. I arrived at the second door on the right. There was no etched window, just a solid door with the name plate saying editor. I knocked the door and walked in.

  As I walked in I saw a middle aged man, nothing like the man I had seen yesterday, although there appeared to be a similarity in the facial features, but he was definitely a lot younger. I glanced around the office at the photos of various celebrities, who were shaking hands with members of staff, then I saw a picture of Marsha; but the picture was old, the edges of the photo were yellowing. I also saw the desk name of Tom Jnr on a shiny wooden name plaque.

  I heard a voice say ‘you’ve got five minutes you’ve already used up a minute so be quick.’ I explained to him that this was going to sound stupid, then tried to explain to him in a quick version of what had happened, but the way it came out sounded ridiculous. Then I explained that I had been taken to dinner by Marsha last night at a very swish restaurant. He looked at me and said ‘go and write a book it sounds a great story, some sci-fi publisher will love it. But it’s not for me.’ ‘Thank you for your time.’ I said to myself, I should have known I wouldn’t get anywhere; then I said ‘that is Marsha in the photo up there, it looks like it was taken a long time ago, but that was the woman who took me out to dinner last night.’

  I was just about to stand up to leave when I saw a photo on the editor’s desk it was the editor I had seen yesterday. I pointed to the photo on his desk and said ‘he was the editor I saw yesterday, he was in an office, the door had a window with editor etched in it and Marsha’s office the same except it said reporter. I know I sound like a crank, but I am not, I’m just trying to make sense of this.’ I went onto say ‘I spent time here yesterday going through boxes in the archive on the mezzanine floor and found the paper I was looking for, it was of a murder that took place not far from Molly’s kitchen. I’ve been to the house, number 64. I’ve been inside its cold and frightening. Anyway thank you for your time.’

  I stood up as the editor shook my hand and wished me good luck; as I took his hand I felt warmth, what it was I’m not sure. Then he said ‘look, sit down again, I know I shouldn’t but,’ then he opened a drawer and took out an old newspaper cutting as he placed it in front of me. I saw in the cutting the house I had been too near Molly’s kitchen. I said ‘that’s it that’s the one, number 64, but it was in the whole newspaper yesterday not a cutting.’ ‘Well, how this happened I have no idea but my father,’ as he picked up the picture he told me of this house, and how Marsha had been investigating a murder that had occurred there, then suddenly she h
ad gone missing, she was never found, my father blamed himself for not giving her the protection she needed. He gave me this cutting and said ‘one day the truth would be told, this maybe the time for an investigation to find the truth.’

  I looked at him and smiled ‘so you believe me?’ ‘I’m not saying that, but you certainly have a lot of information that can’t be explained. But I’m only doing this in memory of my father as he never forgave himself for what happened to Marsha, he treated all his staff like family, especially Marsha, he had a real soft spot for her, I think deep down he fancied her, but would never have done anything as he loved his wife, my mom too much.’

  I saw him reach down into another drawer as he pulled out a big red fold-over file bulging with papers. ‘This is the dossier compiled by my father; he made me promise that I’d it keep till the mystery of Marsha’s disappearance was solved.’ ‘Wow that’s some file.’ ‘Yes it is, I can’t let you remove it, but use one of my offices to read and work from.’ He went onto say, ‘if you were here yesterday, what did you see.’ I then explained about the dirt, the noise from the printing press and the archive section; then what capped it was when I mentioned the restroom and the ornate brass handles. He smiled ‘that was how it used to be, I would come here as a child and would help before I was old enough to go to college. When I graduated my dad insisted I worked for other papers that were more modern then come back and update his old methods or it would go under.’

  He then said ‘I must get on as I have deadlines to meet, so let me show you an office to work from and introduce you to one of my reporters.’

  I was shown to an office; there was a desk and a couple of chairs which was fine for me to work from. I was then introduced to Roseanne she was early-thirties with auburn hair, she had a nice smile. Roseanne stood up, as she did so I saw here nice figure, not slim, she was a wholesome woman. She met me at the corner of her desk where we shook hands. Immediately I could feel a warming glow emanating from her, it travelled to my soul. I could feel something, what it was, I didn’t know, but it was pleasurable.

  We then sat in her office as the editor left us alone. I said ‘I’m not sure where to start, but let me tell you the shortened version, and then if you want me in a strait jacket I will understand.’ I smiled then imparted a slightly longer version than just told to the editor.

  I could see Roseanne looking at me as I was telling the story about Christopher and him being kept captive and his wife Helga having been murdered the same way. I saw her wince at the gory details of the woman strapped down and being cut up alive before being cooked and fed to Christopher.

  I also mentioned the lack of press or police reports after such horrific murders. Then I came forward to the present and my meeting with Clive in Molly’s kitchen and my visit to number 64 including the fear and evil I felt inside. Then my return to Molly’s kitchen and being told it had been closed down for over 10 years by the man working in his garden. The spooky thing was that the man in the garden was Clive’s son. Clive had been dead for about the same period of time as Molly’s kitchen been closed.

  Then I came forward to yesterday and my visit with Marsha and being shown the archive section where after a long search I found the paper with the report of the murder at number 64. The editor today Tom Jnr showed me this cutting given to him by his father regarding Marsha who had been investigating the crime after which she had suspiciously disappeared with no trace of her ever being found.

  Roseanne looked at me with a suspicious look, and then she said something which shook me to my roots. ‘Marsha was my mother.’ That explained somehow the warmth that I felt as I shook her hand, I felt the pleasing sensation travel along my arm to my soul.

  I said ‘wow my last couple of days have been full of unexplained surprises, this being one of the biggest.’ Roseanne smiled as she said ‘I’ve tried to look into my mother’s disappearance but have never had the time to read and research it, but perhaps now with your help I may be able to get to the bottom of it.’ I smiled at her as I collected the papers and went into the office allocated to me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The office was ideal for my purposes, as I took off my jacket and sat down to prepare myself, then I opened the file spreading the papers, filing them the best I could into date order before starting to read.

  As I placed them in order, I couldn’t help going back to this morning when I called Angela, firstly to be told she was dead, then after calling back actually speaking with her. I couldn’t divulge that to Roseanne she would definitely have considered me a nutter and kicked me out. Anyway I eventually got the papers into some semblance of date order.

  Then I started to read with interest the reports in the file. 64, The Avenue was owned by Molly, yes the same Molly who owned Molly’s kitchen. I was now getting more confused. Had I dreamt about being in her café? Had I talked to Clive? Had any of it been real because at this moment in time, nothing felt real to me.

  I continued reading the reports of the murder. Marsha had been really thorough in her investigative articles. Then I found a report that alleged that the chief of police was hiding the facts of the murder as he was nearing retirement and wanted to go out with a clean sheet so had downgraded the investigation to an animal attack rather than a murder. This had incensed Marsha who had made some derogatory remarks about the chief.

  I made notes recording the chief’s name and the suspects Marsha had identified. Then I found an envelope which was still sealed, it had been filed unopened there was no name on the outside just the letter ‘M.’ I broke the seal by sliding my finger along the edge, as I reached the end there was a sound, something like a sigh. I looked around, but saw nothing, then looked inside and took out a folded piece of paper; as I opened it I saw it was a handwritten note, very neatly written. It read ‘you don’t know me, I’m Marsha, look for Camilla she is who you want, she will kill again very soon, find her she has killed many times before and will keep on killing till she’s found,’ that was it nothing else just Camilla’s name.

  This made Christopher’s story more believable, finding this piece of paper; whilst not evidence it was certainly a starting point. I placed it to one side as I continued to read through the documents. Then I found Camilla’s details. She was Camilla Gomez of distant Spanish decent, her grandparents were from Argentina. She had not been married, but lived in various places working as a house maid and child minder. There was a picture of her outside one of many houses she had worked at. She had blonde hair and was tall and slim, although the picture wasn’t that good, it was clear enough to make out her features; it had been enlarged so the pixilation’s were distorted, but there was enough detail to identify her.

  I carried on looking through the papers then came across something which made me shudder it was the picture of the other house, the other number 64 where Christopher had been kept prisoner. Camilla was working for the people who owned the house, they had gone away for a world cruise, but both of them had unfortunately drowned whilst swimming in the sea.

  This was the link I needed, I was now fired up, I could now show the picture to Christopher, if he confirmed that this was the woman who he knew as Camilla, the woman who had kept him captive, we were home and dry, well at least something to go to the police with, perhaps even to the FBI. But just a minute I thought, if the murders took place at least 10 years ago Camilla would have been a lot older when she had kept Christopher captive; nothing was making sense again.

  I asked Roseanne to join me as I showed her what I had found, she couldn’t believe it, all this time the evidence had been there, but had remained hidden till now. Roseanne smiled at me then gave me a huge hug. I instinctively put my arms around her as well and felt her ample breasts pushed up against my chest. Then she took me by surprise as she kissed me. She pulled away and said ‘I’m so sorry’ ‘hey no, please don’t be, it was nice, unexpected, but really nice.’ She smiled as she was about to leave, then I said ‘look this is going to sound corny but, I to
ok your mother out last night, can I take you tonight, and have dinner somewhere; you choose?’ ‘I would love to; I’ll think of somewhere, I finish at about six we can go straight from work if that’s okay?’ ‘That’s fine by me.’

  I continued to read the reports finding witnesses and their addresses, but the only problem was if all this had happened over ten years ago some if not most of the witnesses could be dead by now, if not dead moved on.

  I then searched my pockets for the envelope and letter I took from the post box to compare the handwriting, but it wasn’t there. No matter how many times I searched my pockets it wasn’t to be found. I searched my car and overnight bag as well, but it had gone. This made me cringe as I was sure I had pocketed it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  At 6.00pm I waited for Roseanne outside in my car having freshened up in the restroom. I saw her leave and beeped the horn of my car. She walked over as I said ‘shall we go in one car or shall I follow you?’ ‘No follow me it’s not far.’

  I saw her get into an older model Mustang it was pristine looking, when she put her foot down it sped away with a throaty sounding exhaust note.

  About 10 miles down the road I saw her indicate and pull into an entrance which opened-up into a big car park. Then I saw an old style ranch house with a sign outside ‘the best steakhouse outside of Texas.’

  I pulled alongside Roseanne’s Mustang and got out as she came to my door then I stood up. ‘This is probably the best steak house as the sign says.’ ‘I’m with you, by the way nice motor.’ ‘Yeah I picked it cheap after doing someone a favour, it had been completely rebuilt with a brand new upgraded engine.’ I smiled then she took my arm as we walked towards the entrance.