After a slight hesitation, I could hear the muffled strains of the theme song from Game of Thrones. Dalton reached into his dinner jacket pocket. A slightly hazy picture of me in sunglasses and a hat was flashed on the screen with the name, Bear. My idea. I didn’t think it prudent to allow him to have my real name on his phone… not until my plan was secured.
“Why are you calling me?” asked Dalton. As he went to answer the phone, I laid my hand over his.
“Let it go to voicemail.”
Boredom had him obeying. It was the primary motivation behind most of what the ultra-wealthy did… boredom.
Drugs? Bored.
Promiscuous Sex? Bored.
Crash a car? Bored.
Spend an obscene amount of money on stupid shit? Bored.
Drink too much? Bored.
Staring at Dalton, I left my message. “Hey, babe. I’m in a taxi. I’m sorry I left early but you know I hate it when you drink so much. You just get so reckless. Happy New Year. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
* * *
Two.
* * *
As I said, I’ve been watching people my whole life. What emotions they showed and when. It is rare you get to see pure, unadulterated fear. The rapid transition from one emotion to another was fascinating. The slight furrowing of the brow illustrating confusion. The slackening of the mouth as realization began to dawn. The tensing of the shoulders as the primal fight or flight response started to kick in. The widening of the eyes as horror of his situation took hold.
I took a deep breath through my nose.
Disappointed I could only smell the dewy night air. Not fear. Ah well.
Dalton could only manage a gurgled plea as he raised his arms up in weak defense. It only took a hard shove to his shoulders to send his body flipping over the railing.
His death cry was smothered by the sound of the crowd celebrating as the fireworks began.
I picked up his glass, raised it in a toast and took a sip.
* * *
One.
* * *
Happy New Year!
Chapter 2
The path was too congested with cars to park anywhere near the cemetery, which suited me just fine. I didn’t have the money to waste on a taxi, but that didn’t mean I wanted anyone to observe me driving up in an eight-year-old Camry. Parking on a side street off Irving Park Road, I walked the last two blocks to Graceland Cemetery. Slowing my step, I easily blended in with the other mourners making their way to the exposed grave.
I had skipped the funeral service. It would have been a waste of my time. Everyone behaves themselves in church. I’m sure the entire service was a lesson in dignified hypocrisy. I was more interested in what people were really saying.
Without drawing attention to myself, I fell into step behind a group of older women.
“I heard it was a suicide.”
“Really? I heard he was so drunk he couldn’t stand. Small wonder he flipped over the side.”
“What do the police think?”
“The official report says it was an accident due to a faulty railing. I wonder how much that cost his father?” jeered one of the women.
“That old codger will probably turn around and sue the building owner just to convince everyone his bullshit story is true.”
“Well, appearances after all.”
I smiled.
After taking a moment to watch his slack body plummet to the asphalt, I had quickly taken the glass I had been using and smudged the surface. To leave no prints would have looked suspicious, better to have unusable ones. I did the same to the champagne bottle and the counter surface in the bathroom. I took the main elevator, knowing the service one was monitored. The rich wanted the people who served them watched at all times, but the same did not apply to them. Once reaching the lobby, I ducked out the side entrance so the doorman wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when I left. As I walked to my car, deliberately parked several blocks away, I dropped my burner phone into a grease dumpster behind a restaurant.
I had hoped the police would assume he had gotten into a fight with a mysterious boyfriend, drank a little too much and went over the side. I had neglected to factor in the Ranaut family’s obsession with reputation and appearances. Of course they would rather cover up a possible murder rather than risk scrutiny and press.
Perfect.
Taking a deep breath, I surveyed the mourners. Time for Plan B.
Following the crowd through the winding path, we reached the gravesite or rather mausoleum. True to the fashion when it was erected back in the twenties, it was a large stone structure incongruously adorned with two sphinxes in the art deco Egyptian style.
Garish. It was the perfect eternal resting place for someone like Dalton.
“This is the will of my Father, says the Lord.” The priest had begun the Rite of Committal.
Just then I spotted Plan B. He was standing a little aside from the general crowd. He was taller than Dalton, definitely more handsome, which would make this easier. Circling back around a few tombstones, I approached him from behind as if I had just arrived late.
I stopped at his side. We nodded to one another.
“That I should not lose nothing of all that he has given me,” droned on the priest.
I shook my head. Leaning over slightly, I whispered, “Dalton would have hated this.”
His eyes lit up as he gestured toward the small crowd. “Yes! Thank you!” he said just a little too loudly. Several people turned, their brows furrowed with disapproval. “Yes. Thank you,” he repeated, this time whispering. “I’m glad someone appreciates that. No one in the family would listen to me.”
“And that I should raise it up on the last day,” said the priest.
“From what Dalton used to tell me, I’m not surprised.”
He looked at me with interest. “I’m Gregory,” he said holding out his hand.
I took his hand and held it in my own for a fraction too long as I leaned in close, and with the pretense of wanting to be respectful to the other mourners, whispered in his ear, “Vincent.” As always, I emphasized the first syllable then clipped the second. How you say things makes as much of an impression as what you say.
I could feel him tremble slightly.
Case in point.
The ritual over, the mourners had begun to disperse.
“How did you know Dalton?” asked Gregory.
To be specific, Gregory Alford. First cousin of Dalton Ranaut. Related to the exalted Renauts through his mother. Heir to a lesser although not insignificant fortune when his already ailing father passes and then an even greater fortune when his mother goes. If all works out, perhaps, I’ll help her reach that final reward sooner than expected. An overdose of pills quickly following her husband’s death perhaps? People did act rashly soon after the death of a loved one after all.
It was risky dipping my pen in the same inkwell, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let all that research and effort I had done learning all about the Ranauts go to waste. Besides, I had never been introduced to anyone in Dalton’s family.
“How does anyone know Dalton? Through friends.” Implying of course that I was also friends with the elite of the elite which made up Dalton’s circle of spoiled rich asshole acquaintances of which I still hoped to become a member.
“Are you the Vincent who dragged Dalton to that Manet exhibit at the Chicago Art Museum?”
“The same,” I said with a nod. Denying it would only make me look suspicious. Vincent wasn’t a common name… it’s why I chose it.
Gregory gave me a sad smile. “He hated every moment.”
I pretended to look hurt. “Don’t say that!”
We began to follow the others out of the cemetery. I kept close, allowing the shoulder of my wool coat to occasionally brush his own as we navigated over the frozen tufts of grass and around the weather-beaten gravestones.
“It feels good to talk about him. With the questions about… about how he died and
everything… it feels like everyone just wants to move on as quickly as possible. Forgetting him.”
There was a bark of laughter to our right. A small group of Dalton’s former friends were passing around a bottle of something. Too drunk to button up their coats, I could see some of them were still dressed in jeans and cocktail dresses from the night before.
Step one. Alienate your prey from his pack.
Clearing my throat, I said, “I don’t mean to sound like a bastard, but I can’t help but think some of Dalton’s so-called friends are only here for the spectacle.”
“I agree. Hey… if you don’t have plans… would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? It’d be nice to talk and remember Dalton with someone who actually gave a damn about him.”
I wait to respond. Giving him a chance to become insecure and second-guess himself.
“That was stupid. Sorry. We just met and I’m sure you have things you have to do this afternoon.”
I stopped walking. Turning I looked down into his eyes. They’re green like Dalton’s although sharper and brighter with just a hint of gray around the iris. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I said, “I’d be honored. It would be nice to reminisce about my favorite times with Dalton.”
Like watching his skull explode the moment it hit the pavement.
“There’s a diner just a few blocks up on Irving. Should we meet there?”
Not wanting him to see my car, I offered. “I know it’s cold but it’d be nice to just walk a little. I’m still a bit shaken up after the service and a walk would help.”
Gregory nodded. “That’s a good idea. Let me just say goodbye to my mother, and I’ll meet you at the entrance.”
I watched Gregory walk over to a statuesque woman wearing a long mink coat. Her silver hair was expertly arranged into a French twist, showing off the glint of diamonds in each ear. Gregory looked over his shoulder and gestured in my direction. I schooled my features to remain impassive as I could feel her assessing gaze on me from across the tombstones. Rich mothers had a sixth sense for when an outsider was after one of their own just for their money. It wasn’t out of concern or protection for their offspring, but rather out of an abundance of concern for their true first born… their money.
She nodded and offered a cool pale cheek for his kiss before he turned away to once more join me.
As we walked, I dropped my hand by my side, letting it casually brush the back of Gregory’s.
Chapter 3
Dunkin donuts?
How very common man of him, I mused.
I would have thought Gregory was more of a Starbucks man like his cousin, but this was even better. I watched from my car as he strolled into the small strip mall location. Picking up my phone, I opened the map app and put a pin on the location. I had been plotting out Gregory’s movements. This morning was the last day I could afford to monitor him. I was already late for work and couldn’t miss any more days without risking getting fired.
Fortunately, I had almost gathered enough intel from social media and his movements for my purposes.
I needed to make a move now. It had been two days since the funeral, and all I had gotten were a few text messages from Gregory. I knew he was interested. He was probably just too good of a person to make a move on someone he met at his cousin’s funeral. Knowing his type, he was probably thinking of waiting a week or two till a more decent time to broach the topic.
Well, I didn’t have a few weeks.
My rent was due.
I needed him to give me some kind of expensive gift I could pawn… and soon.
I watched as he crossed the street and headed down Lincoln Avenue towards the center of town, his laptop bag on his shoulder. I knew there was a small fountain and some scattered tables and chairs that usually attracted people who worked from home, like Gregory. I had since learned he was a day trader, turning his family’s $20 million fortune into some serious money.
Waiting a moment till he was out of sight; I retraced his steps into the Dunkin Donuts. Giving the rather homely woman behind the counter a charming smile, I said, “Hello, beautiful.”
Her hand fluttered to the slightly stained collar of her shit brown polo shirt. “How can I help you?” she asked as she lowered her voice an octave in a pathetic attempt to sound seductive.
Hiding my distaste, I leaned in close, watching as she inhaled the scent of my cologne.
“My colleague just left. The gentleman in the navy-blue blazer with the laptop bag.”
“Yes?”
I gave a small laugh. “I tried calling out to him, but I’m afraid he didn’t hear me. I had wanted to ask him the name of what he drinks. I stole a sip the other day, and it was… delicious.”
The woman’s eyes shifted over my shoulders; drifting shut slightly. “Oh, he always gets a frozen mocha with a shot of coconut and vanilla, topped with whipped cream. Would you like one?”
God no.
“Yes, that would be fabulous. Thank you, beautiful.”
After paying for what I could only assume was going to be an evil concoction of a drink, I headed to the center of town. As soon as I neared the fountain, I took out my cellphone. Careful to turn off the ringer, I then proceeded to pretend I was on a phone call as I strolled nearer to where Gregory was perched with his laptop.
“Vincent!”
I ignored his call and stood before the fountain with my back to him.
“Vincent!”
I waited till I heard his approach from behind. “Trust me, once Congress passes the law allowing banks to work with the cannabis companies, the market is going to burst open. You want to get in before the rush. I personally have half a mil in Cronus.”
Turning at the tap on my shoulder, I feigned surprise at seeing Gregory. Holding up my finger as I mouthed one second, I continued. “No. Stay away from the Ohio market. That cannabis license lottery was rigged. Smart money is on Florida and California. Roger, listen, I’m heading into another meeting, can I call you back?”
“I thought it was you!” exclaimed Gregory as he leaned in for a hug.
Placing the hand holding my evil concoction around his back, I let my left-hand drift lower to skim his hip, brushing his outer thigh as I pulled away.
“Gregory! What a pleasant surprise bumping into you here!”
Gesturing over his shoulder, he said, “I’m at a table just over there. You got time to sit and chat?”
I smiled. “For you? Always.”
I waited as he closed his laptop and motioned for me to sit down. I made a point to place my drink close to his own.
“You’re a Dunkin fan too? It’s so nice to meet someone who isn’t a slave to Starbucks,” he said with a laugh.
“Usually I get a hot mocha, but the woman behind the counter recommended a custom drink. It’s a frozen mocha with a shot of coconut and vanilla. I have to admit I’m hooked. It’s really good. Did you want to try it?” I asked as I held the cup out to him.
Picking up his own cup, he said, “That’s my drink!”
“No way?”
“Yes! Everyone I know thinks it’s way too sweet.”
Taking a sip and hiding my grimace, I replied. “Not for me.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help overhear you talking about buying into some cannabis shares. The other day we never got around to talking about careers. Are you a day trader too?”
I shook my head. “No. I dabble in the market. A few million here and there in new technologies and upcoming trends mostly.”
It really was indecent how easily the lies tripped off my tongue.
Gregory slapped the cast iron top of the table before pointing at me. “An adventurer! I knew there was something I liked about you! There’s nothing quite like the rush of following a hunch and beating the odds on the market.”
The look on Dalton’s face the moment he realized he was about to die flashed across my mind.
The moment he realized I would be the one to kill him.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said with an upturned tilt to my lips. “Way better than my boring day job.”
“What do you do?”
I leaned in close. Like the woman at the counter, I watched as he too inhaled the spicy scent of my cologne. It was a knock off of Chanel’s Grand Extrait. At $4200 an ounce, the real thing was far out of my price range… for now.
I paused, then gave my head a small shake. “Sorry. I was noticing the small flecks of gold in your blue eyes.”
Gregory looked down shyly. “Uh… wow,” he whispered before looking up at me through his eyelashes.
Deliberately breaking the moment, I continued. “I’m a high school math teacher.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for one.”
I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Call me a fool. My family’s money allowed me the freedom to choose a career for idealistic reasons. And there was just something about shaping the young minds of the future that appealed to me.”
Gregory leaned back and stared at me for a moment. “Damn. You make me feel like a selfish bastard!”
“What? Why?”
“All I did with my family’s money was use it to make more money. While you’re out here saving America’s youth.”
Just the opening, I needed. Shifting my chair closer, I placed a hand on his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The shoulder was too casual. The upper arm implied intimacy.
“Don’t say such things. I’ve only known you for a short time, but I can already tell you are a decent, kind person.” I paused to look deeply into his eyes. “I will never forget how you reached out to comfort me at Dalton’s funeral.”
Gregory placed his warm hand over my own. I flipped my wrist so that we were now holding hands.
Devious Resolutions Page 6
