Stealing Flowers

by Edward St Amant

  “You’re fighting for your life and you are worried about sex.”

  Surprisingly, in my own mind, sex was the furthest thing from what I wanted from her, but of course it involved sex. She rose. I was bewildered yet still aggressive. My inner voice was pleading from anything but a reasonable position. “What are you talking about?” I asked angrily.

  “My Grandfather always said, ‘All you can expect from a pig is a grunt.’”

  “Why did you come?” I hissed. “My sister and I were close. I’d never dream of hurting her anymore than you would hurt a member of your family, and moreover, that particular night, we were closer than we’ve ever been. The Family of Truth murdered Sally and you know it. Sally and I had heard of the Hostility Branch from Rick Edwards, who they killed also.” I again tried for a kiss which she deftly refused. “I need you,” I said, “you’re strong. I saw it from the first time I laid eyes on you. Don’t you want to be with me?”

  “I would like to sleep with you,” she said, “but not for a while.”

  I seized her and kissed her until she kissed me back. It took all my self-control not to push her to the hardwood floor and take her there by force. I was so excited that it hurt. I pulled her into my room and locked the door. When I had her under covers, I lost control. Touching her naked body in the flesh evoked an immediate reaction. This appeared to turn her on and she got into it. I’d always hoped she would like me this way. I strongly suspected that she did.

  Twenty seconds later, we achieved complete total rapture together. It was exquisite. I felt I could breathe again and there were tears streaming from my eyes. I didn’t let her go until midnight when I snuck her out of the house, begging her to phone me the next day which she did. I’d have had her back at once. I must admit, I loved her already, but several days later, late in the evening, Hiroyuki Nakamura was killed in a hit and run outside of The Carewell Complex. It threw Tappets into a crisis and hit me hard. On a personal level, it was depressing. I’d loved the old man. On a business level, he was going to help me make my mark at Tappets, now I sensed I was to go down. Everything at Tappets was turning against me. Mary and Stan made Lloyd Mills the interim operational executive, and at once, he stopped all investigations into the Tappet embezzlement conspiracy. I continued to talk to Susan on a daily basis. She came to Hiro’s funeral with me, as did Peter.

  “Do you think Hiroyuki Nakamura was murdered,” I asked him the afternoon of the funeral when we’d a moment alone.

  “We’re looking at all the possibilities,” he answered. “Tell me about Lloyd,” he said and I proceeded to tell him the whole story, leaving out only the parts that were embarrassing to me.

  Although I didn’t see Peter until over a month later, I talked to him every second day or so.

  On April 11, he asked me to join him for an interview with Lloyd at the Vanderbilt Plaza. What this would lead to, I’d no clue.

  “Mr. Burgess and Christian Tappet are here,” Carla said in a pleasant soft voice into her desk phone when we arrived. She was Hiro’s former secretary. “He’ll just be a few minutes. He’s so busy. Can I get you a coffee?”

  We both nodded. “Did you know Sally Tappet well?” Peter asked her.

  “Sally and Lloyd were on friendly terms,” she said after a moment of thought. “He’s been quite upset.” The receiver beeped. “You may go ahead,” she said further. “Good luck to you Mr. Burgess in helping Christian, we all know that he’s innocent.”

  This almost made me teary eyed. Lloyd sat at his desk writing intensely and didn’t rise, but looked up quickly. “Hello, gents. Make yourselves at home.”

  On the walls were two enormous paintings, one of The Watchman, a rock formation in Zion National Park, Utah, and the other on the opposite wall, The Calling, of a covered bridge in Philippi, West Virginia, near the site of the first skirmish in the Civil War. I knew this because Hiro collected early American paintings and talked to me at length about them. He was more American than almost anyone I had ever met. At length, Lloyd rose and stretched.

  “Helen got you coffee, good. I’m at your complete disposal for a few minutes.” I noticed that his eyes had become more sunken and it was perhaps from overwork, although he didn’t give me the impression of being overtired, but he was as lean as ever.

  “How can I help Christian?” he asked.

  “Confess to the murder,” Peter said sarcastically.

  I laughed, but saw that neither Peter nor Lloyd even smiled.

  “You didn’t come here to simply rattle my cage?” Lloyd asked.

  Peter shrugged and I realized that was exactly why he’d come. Lloyd had guessed it right off. “I’d an intriguing interview with one of your old buddies the other day,” Peter said. “Seems that you’ve believed for a long time that you were going to run Tappets one day when Mary and Stan retired. Maybe that’s enough motivation to do something to bring it about.”

  I felt myself sitting up on the edge of my seat. Lloyd gave a half-frown, looked at me, and sat back to calm himself. “Mary and Stan know that my friendship is beyond question. I loved their daughter and lots of people say things they shouldn’t when they’re drunk.”

  “I think you’re behind Sally’s death.”

  “What?” I said.

  With his eyes, Peter indicated for me to be quiet. “Who’s going to believe that?” Lloyd said. “Look at Christian’s reaction.”

  “People believe that corporate America is filled with avaricious businessmen,” Peter said. “It might be easy to convince them that you were involved with a conspiracy to commit murder to gain control of a large conglomerate. In a recent poll, a majority of Americans believed predatory overpaid executives controlled the markets and that they were greedy and corrupt. I’ve tracked down Graham Roberts. He revealed that you were involved with him and Cheryl Garland, and others, to embezzle millions out of Tappets.”

  This was a complete surprise to me. I’d assumed Graham Roberts was dead. Lloyd rose out of his chair, his hands gripping the edge of his desk, and his eyes filled with anger. “Get out!” he shouted.

  We rose. “I know that you’re involved with this case,” Peter said flatly, further inflaming him. “You want Tappets and will do anything to get it. I know you’re guilty and I’ll get you.”

  “If Graham said that of me, then he’s a damn liar,” Lloyd said, still shouting. “I’d never steal from the Tappets and I certainly never have hurt Sally. I loved her.”

  “If you’re innocent, then you won’t refuse a polygraph, that way, I can take you off my suspicious list?” He nodded. “When?”

  “If you want, I’ll do it today.”

  We left The Vanderbilt. I was mystified and strolled a block before I could say anything. “Do you really think Lloyd had something to do with this?”

  “He agreed to a polygraph and that surprised the hell out of me.” It was the first beautiful spring day in New York City and while we walked on the busy streets, I tried to remember my former feelings of spring fever. It was disturbing that I couldn’t. “I do know for sure that Lloyd has people following you and your family,” Peter continued at length. “The first thing is to get the polygraph done. If he passes the test, then I’ll have to search other avenues, especially The Family of Truth alternative, but that will be difficult, better if it was Lloyd.” He shook his head. “Something is missing,” he said softly as though to himself. “What is it?”

  We stopped at a street vendor and bought a cold drink. I purchased a copy of The Times. The headline read, ‘Iran-Contra. A High Pentagon source states that the Contras benefited from funds diverted from payments made for secret arms sales to Iran by the CIA and the Reagan Administration.’

  Peter’s cellular phone rang when we came within sight of his car. “Damn, this keeps getting worse,” he said, looking at me after he rang off. “Strange as it sounds, they’ve just pulled Graham Roberts’ car out of the drink and he’s in the trunk.”

  Two confirmed deaths. More and more,
it looked like someone from Tappets was behind it, and not The Family of Truth after all. I saw Graham’s body that day. It was remarkably preserved. He had always looked bloated, and that day he was bursting at the seams.

  In the early morning of Friday, April 17, I flew Peter to Denver, Colorado to meet Anna Chapati, the former Love Israel. She was the one who’d had the Marilyn Monroe type body and who let Andy cop a feel that July day all those years ago.

  We met at eleven o’clock in a Just Desserts on Coles Street. She stood a full foot shorter than Peter. She was still voluptuous, perhaps ten pounds heavier, but now sported a dark tan. Her eyes were focused and her smile more natural. Inside the coffee-shop it smelled of freshly-baked donuts and had few customers inside, but on the patio it was busy. It had become a warm sunny spring day and the sunlight hit directly along the east side of the street. Fifty feet down, store windows glared in the sunlight and the sidewalk collected rivulets from dripping air conditioners.

  “I’ve met you before,” Peter said after we had re-introduced each other, “the day that I encountered The Family of Truth selling flowers from the bus.” This seemed to puzzle her. “Can I record this conversation?” Peter asked. She nodded and he brought out a small pocket recorder. “State what your name was inside the cult, I mean, church?”

  “You can call it that, that’s what I call it,” Anna remarked.

  “Is Divine Love still in the cult?” Peter asked, referring to the tall pretty blond girl who had been one of the original bus-people.

  “She has been Love Moses’ mistress since 1985. Inside the cult, we were married to whomever they said. All marriages were consummated with alcohol and drugs, I think, but who can really say? Mine were, but I think they changed the rules as they went. I’ve heard that the old man, David Moses, is nuts.”

  “When I talked to Susan Zucker,” Peter continued, “she thought you could help Christian.”

  “The elders who Sally Tappet accused of rape were married to me at one time or another, and all spoke to me, separately, or together, about the incident; I think that was the first time those five elders, the ones named in Sally Tappets litigation, ever use force for sex and it was a turn on for them.”

  If Peter was startled, he didn’t show it, but I couldn’t keep the shock off my face. “All five of them?” I asked.

  “They often had gang sex with me. Also later, but before I left, they became part of a military unit for the family. This included Thought Jacob. He was a distant aloof elder, the head elder of Denver; Holy Truth, a timid heavy-set elder; Goodness Tranquility, a big burly enforcer, a man who had enjoyed his work; and Grave Revelation, the one who ordered the branch created, a creepy guy. Then there was a rake-thin quiet guy who was the assistant to Moses Truth, Ezekiel Observance. He has since become the Over-Elder in America. The Denver Elders became Warriors for the Lord, and they changed their names. Swift Retribution, the leader, for instance, was formerly Thought Jacob.”

  Peter reached for his file. “Grave Revelation, one of the rapists, ordered the creation of the Hostility Branch and he’s still alive as far as you know?”

  “You see the other litigates?” she said. “As I said, Thought Jacob is Swift Retribution, Holy Truth is Silent Righteousness, Grave Revelation is Blood Justice and Goodness Tranquility, the hateful enforcer, is Proud Punishment. They all belong to the Hostility Branch.”

  The little table between us became cluttered with paper and coffee cups. “My son works for our agency,” Peter said, “and he gave me something on the Hostility Branch, just hold on.” Peter found a sheet with a dozen names on it, studied it, and passed it to her.

  “They’re all here,” she said at length.

  “If only we had their birth names,” Peter asked.

  “I can tell you how to get that,” she said. “The Family of Truth shares a building with a company called the Zortichii Group. They keep track of everybody in the family from a filing system using the birth-names. It’s a secret place but I know of it because Divine Love often worked there and told me about it. She’d been a filing-secretary before she joined the family.”

  He scribbled the name on one of the file-folders and rose, putting away his papers. “We’ll be in touch in a couple of days.” She nodded.

  “Can I help you out for this?” I asked.

  She winked at me. “I just want to help you. I know that you’re a good person. They raped your sister, and I think they killed her too.”

  I reached over and hugged her, then we left.

  In the next month, I flew Peter, his partner, or his children, whenever, wherever they wanted to go, but I could sense their growing frustration. Susan came by for a dinner invitation one Sunday evening. Mary and Stan liked the idea that I was dating Sally’s former lawyer. We hadn’t told Susan yet about the worst of it, that is, Sally and my affair. Una told me she was the one, and I believed Una, but to what purpose? When she found out about Sally and I, she’d fly. Besides, I was becoming afraid I was going to jail, and for a long time. In all the hearings, the inevitable horrible date finally drew near, and on Monday, May 16, I found myself arriving at the Park Avenue Courthouse to begin the trial.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day was wet and waiting crowds seemed dull with their long grey coats and black umbrellas. The limousine approached slowly, pushing through a cluster of heavy traffic and crowds of reporters and onlookers. I saw that the faces hated me, and in turn, I felt ashamed. To be the center of a murder investigation was horrible enough, yet the real horror was that I probably wouldn’t be found guilty of murder for killing Sally, but for sleeping with her. Confusion and pushing began as we stepped out. Una, Mary, and Stan were with me. Isaac had driven us. The police were there to help, but this didn’t deter the cameras and microphones being aggressively shoved into our faces.

  “You be good now,” Una shouted at them, but they shouted right back.

  “Tell us Mr. Tappet, what do you think of bail being set at two million dollars?” “Is it true that you’ve passed three police polygraphs?” “Can you confirm that a senior homicide detective has become a hostile witness?” “Is the story in the Times about a conspiracy theory true?” “Is this how Burlington is going to defend you?”

  Stan pulled me quickly toward the front doors, and the flock of journalists followed. Stan half-pulled me through the throng. Some at the back screamed their questions and pushed to get to the front. “How low a level of self-esteem do you need to do that?” Stan whispered once we were inside.

  “They’re like newly hatched chicks screeching for worms,” Una added.

  One of Brad Burlington’s understudies was waiting for me on the fourth floor and whisked me away. I remember waving to my parents. I was pathetic, but my heart was aching. I walked with the bailiff and the understudy into Room Forty. “Learn to be calm,” Brad said from the defense table when he saw me, then he hugged me. “This is a long process.”

  I snuck a peak at the crowd and took my seat between Brad and his co-defense lawyer, Jerry Becker who stood nearly as tall as Brad. He wasn’t as tanned or relaxed as Brad, and furthermore his clean-shaven narrow face, crowned with a short thick crew cut, made him seem almost too young. He looked unhappy about something as well, but squeezed my arm when I sat. I sensed everyone’s attention. The courtroom was packed. I closed my eyes and tried to keep the feeling of panic from overpowering me.

  At eight a.m., the judge, Phil Anderson, an older slight, perhaps even frail-looking black man, entered the courtroom. To me, he weighed no more than one hundred and forty pounds and had grey hair and brown focused eyes. Everyone rose and he sat in his bench, looking at me with what I took to be sympathy.

  “Criminal action 8753 - 07,” he said softly. “The United States of America versus Christian Donald Briner Tappet is on the docket. I have ruled in all the motions except two and we’ll face these two as they arise. Mr. Burch, are you ready?”

  Denzil Burch rose from his seat, a heavy-set fifty-year-old
man with blue eyes. Under normal circumstance, with his grey hair and his light-blue suit, he would have seemed a decent-looking sort to me, but right now he appeared evil, and looked over at me with disdain so that I shuddered. “Your honor, Keith McCormick will be assisting me.” Keith, like his boss weighed over two hundred pounds, but was much plainer looking. It was like the fat attorneys against the thin ones. I turned around to look at Mary and Stan, and one row back, I saw Susan. She threw me a kiss.

  “Bring in the jury,” the judge announced.

  “What happened to our motions?” I whispered to Brad.

  “The judge won’t hear any more from either side,” he whispered. “He told us beforehand to stop bellyaching and that he’d rule on any other motions as the trial progresses.”

  “Good Morning,” Mr. Burch said to the jury once they were assembled and the judge had instructed them. He rose and glanced down one last time at his notes. “I see that you’ve been provided with pictures. This is a typical room at The Manhattan Grand Hyatt such as the one in which the murder of Sally Tappet took place.” He stepped out from in front of his table, but it was an awkward maneuver. “You were also given by Keith McCormick, a succinct corporate portfolio of the Tappet Industrial structure. Christian is a student of Princeton University and had very successful years there. He has the means, the connections, the brains and the desire to take over this massive industrial giant from his parents.”

  He stepped back to his desk to glance at his notes again. I could see he understood what Brad called the theater of the courtroom. “The night that Christian murdered Sally Tappet, Mary and Stan Tappet were going to announce their retirement. We’ll show that he knew this. Christian is an adopted child, Sally wasn’t. This is important to keep in mind. We’ll show one of Christian’s deepest fears: The loss of his inheritance. We’ll explain later why he had developed this fear and why it became a legitimate one.”