by Bill WENHAM
EASY GREEN
by
BILL WENHAM
Chapter One
September, 2010.
The massive Enzo Santini stood leering in front of Dean Factor, supremely confident he could handle the upcoming confrontation with the just slightly smaller man. He’d been sent to taunt Factor and provoke him into a fight. In the process he’d been instructed to do some serious and crippling damage to his opponent.
They were in a bar in downtown Saginaw, Michigan. It was the kind of upscale place where someone could go for a relaxing drink after a hard day at the office. It wasn’t a place where you’d expect to witness a brawl.
In this environment, the huge rough looking man stood out like sore thumb. Factor had no idea who the man was or why he was leering at him. But he knew what trouble looked like when he saw it. Factor, for his part, had been subjected lately to just about as much of this kind of nonsense as he could stand.
Perhaps it was time to do something about it. Normally alone now in a big empty house, all he’d come into the bar for was just a quiet drink and to watch the ball game on the bar’s TV.
Santini small eyes watched warily as Factor reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a gel-cap. He slowly put it up to his mouth but not into it.
“Ah, poor baby’s got himself a little headache then, has he? You’re gonna need a lot more than a pill, pal, when I’m done with you,” Santini sneered at him.
He moved closer to Factor and stood, feet planted wide apart, thumping the fist of his right hand into the palm of his left. His stance and attitude left no doubt someone was about to get very badly hurt. The bar regulars either sat or stood, openmouthed, waiting to see which one of them it would be.
This could be better than watching a couple of has-been boxers waltzing around each other on the bar’s TV – and this was live.
The bartender called out, “Hey, you guys just take it outside, okay?”
Santini ignored him and stepped closer. Factor abruptly turned his back on him, but he also sensed the bigger man was about to make a grab at him. As he turned, Factor held the gel-cap above his head between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.
He was certain Santini would be distracted by this odd move and he was right. He leaned forward slightly and then rammed his right elbow straight back and directly into the big man’s solar plexus.
As Santini grunted and doubled over, Factor turned fast and swung a powerful roundhouse right to the point of Santini’s jaw, sending him sprawling backwards on the floor. His round and shaven head bounced on the wooden floor of the bar as he went down.
Factor immediately leaped on the semi-conscious man, straddling his ample abdomen. He jammed his knees hard into the insides of the big man’s elbows, immobilizing Santini’s thick and muscular arms very effectively.
He reached forward and snapped Santini’s loose mouth open wider, popped the gel-cap into the man’s mouth and clamped his right hand down hard over it. Factor’s thumb and forefinger of his left hand then gripped Santini’s bulbous and misshapen nose tightly as well to prevent him from breathing.
Factor leaned forward right into Santini’s face.
“Just so you know,” he said. “These things aren’t for headaches at all, pal. I’ve got about a dozen of them in my pocket. They also dissolve instantly. Five seconds max. A couple of them probably would cure a headache. The rest would make damned sure you never had another one in your whole life.”
Factor grinned at the man struggling beneath him. Santini’s face was turning purple.
“The rest of them are cyanide capsules,” he added.
Santini’s eyes bulged in his head but, unable to breath, he gulped and swallowed the capsule.
“Now the pressing question for you is,” Factor said, as he released his hold on the man’s mouth and nose – “which one did you just swallow? We’ll know for sure in a moment or two, though, won’t we? Feeling lucky today, are you?”
Santini’s eyes instantly rolled backward as he lost consciousness.
Factor moved off the unconscious man, got to his feet, went over to the bar and ordered a beer.
“You’ve killed him!” the waitress squealed, looking down at Santini’s still form.
Factor shook his head and smiled.
“No, honey, he’ll be okay. The big tough guy’s just fainted, that’s all.”
The bartender put Factor’s beer on the counter in front of him.
“You sure scared the hell out of him then. What did you do to him?” he asked.
Factor smiled.
“Just played a little psychological mind game on him, that’s all. Ever heard of Andrew Carnegie’s ‘The Power of Positive Thinking’? Apart from the haymaker, I also hit him with a little bit of that as well.”
The bartender nodded. That was a new one, he thought and it was obviously pretty effective. Words didn’t break his bar up either.
Factor rubbed his knuckles.
“Hurt me more than it did him though, I’m thinking,” he said.
“Will he be okay?” the waitress asked anxiously.
“He should be,” Factor laughed. “Unless he’s fatally allergic to sinus medication.”
The girl frowned.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay, honey. Neither did he.”
Factor drank his beer, paid for it and left a generous tip on the bar. He glanced over at the bartender.
“When he wakes up, tell him he was a very lucky man today, but if he ever tries to mess with me again, it’ll be the real thing next time.”
The bartender frowned, puzzled.
“Real thing? What’s that?”
Factor grinned.
“Just tell him what I said. He’ll know exactly what you mean.”
Santini was still lying on his back, since no one had attempted to help him. Factor stepped over him, gave a casual wave to the ogling onlookers and left the bar
Those pills work every time, he smiled to himself and not just for sinuses either apparently. For Factor, it was little more than a joke but he was right. Some pills were very effective, because Enzo Santini was found dead a couple days later. He’d been poisoned – and Factor had attacked and threatened him with cyanide in front of the bartender, the waitress and a roomful of people.
Just how many of them had heard him actually mention cyanide, he wondered?
It wasn’t the fact that Santini was dead or poisoned that concerned him most, since he’d never even met the man before. It was where the dead man was found that scared the hell out of Dean Factor!
Dean Factor was a man of about forty, dark haired, blue eyes and considered to be good looking. He sat at a large steel table in a white painted, brick walled room where he was being held on a charge of murder - Santini’s murder.
He was dressed in standard prison garb, with his ankles shackled to steel rings bolted to the concrete floor. The metal table legs were also bolted to the floor.
He rested his elbows on the table top and cupped his unshaven chin in his shackled hands. He had already been told that he was about to be questioned or interviewed by a lawyer but had no idea by which one or why.
This was now the fourth time Factor had been taken into custody and charged with murder. On each of the previous occasions, he’d been represented by his own lawyer, a tall and thin, round shouldered and gaunt looking older man whose overall appearance reminded Factor of a latter day Abraham Lincoln.
This image was somewhat marred by the man’s very large and extremely hooked nose. It wasn’t surprising that C. Sanderson Whatley’s nickname around the legal community was ‘The Venerable Vulture.’
Maybe that was a good and intimidating impression for the man to make, especially if he had
the legal skills to match, Factor thought, when he retained him.
In Factor’s first three appearances in front of a judge, Whatley easily made the case that, apart from the locations where the bodies were discovered, the State had absolutely no basis for a case against his client.
They had produced no murder weapon or weapons, Whatley pointed out, no witnesses and no motive. Therefore they had no reason to hold him. The State had nothing to take the cases to trial with, he said.
When the fourth murder occurred, Santini’s, there was something quite different about it, apart from the location, that tied Factor directly to it. This time the State did have a case, and a very good one, complete with a murder weapon, a motive and witnesses. This time the State’s case against Factor was practically airtight.
The difference? Santini had been poisoned with cyanide – and Factor had been heard threatening him with cyanide in the bar in front of a roomful of ogling witnesses!
Unfortunately, his effective and predatory looking legal counsel, C. Sanderson Whatley, was on a month long visit to Sydney, Australia and had left the same day Santini’s murder was discovered.
Factor had been about to seek a temporary substitute for him when he was advised that he had a visitor, a lawyer.
At the sound of the steel door opening, he wearily turned his head to watch his visitor approach. A guard opened the door to allow a young woman to enter. Once she was inside the guard closed it again and resumed his watch from outside.
The woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties to early thirties, eased her slim, business suited figure gracefully into a chair across the table from him.
She was attractive but not in the Hollywood definition of being beautiful since her attractiveness lay mainly in her calm manner and easy smile, which suggested efficiency and complete confidence in herself and her abilities.
Her glossy black hair was worn in a sleek ‘helmet’ style, which complemented her steady gray eyes. A perfectly tailored charcoal gray linen suit, a white silk blouse and matching gray and white high heels completed her very businesslike appearance. A scarlet silk scarf peeked out from under the lapels of her jacket to add a dramatic and very feminine touch of color to her ensemble. She wore very little makeup and apart from a small silver wristwatch, she wasn’t wearing any other jewelry.
She didn’t offer to shake hands with Factor, but instead placed a slim black leather briefcase on the table in front of her. The shackled man watched as she flipped it open and withdrew a small tape recorder, a yellow legal pad and a gold ball point pen. She placed the items in front of her and then closed the lid of the case.
Smiling at him, she said, by way of greeting:
“Well now, Mr. Factor, I’m Ms. Reid and I’ve been advised you’ve gotten yourself into a really nasty little spot of bother again, haven’t you?”
Dean Factor shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.
“I’m most certainly in a spot of bother, as you call it, ma’am, but I didn’t get myself into it. Someone else did that quite nicely for me.”
“Luckily for you, Mr. Factor, bother of one kind or another is what I handle, and I do it very well too, even if I do say so myself. I’m Elaine Reid and I’m here to help you get out of it if I can.”
Factor looked puzzled.
“I’ve been hired to handle your case, Mr. Factor, if you agree to my being retained?”
Factor nodded and then a thought struck him.
“Hired by whom?” he asked, thinking that she’d been sent from Whatley’s firm to start the legal ball rolling.
“A sympathizer who wishes to remain anonymous, Mr. Factor.”
“Anonymous. And why is that?”
The woman smiled again.
“Does it matter who it is, sir, if that person is paying my fee?” she asked.
Factor shook his head, glad to be represented. He’d already been made aware of Whatley’s absence.
“No, I guess not and any help I can get right now to make all these bloody messes I’m in disappear will be very much appreciated.”
As soon as he said it, he was certain that he knew who his mysterious ‘sympathizer’ was. It could hardly be anyone else, could it? This woman was obviously part of the help promised to him earlier.
Up until recently, Factor had been blissfully unaware that, Willoughby, his partner, was nothing more than a front man. He’d been one of the best in the business probably, but was still only a front man.
Who his real partner was would become horrendously obvious to Factor many years after he’d first met Willoughby. At that time he would also be advised his Easy Green Garden World Corporation was merely a laundering operation for Colombian drug money. And it also wasn’t his!
Instead of Factor and his Dellie cruising through a sea of the pleasures of the super rich for a comfortable life, he’d found himself alone and adrift in a storm wracked ocean of murder, deceit and criminal drugs lords.
The lawyer put down the pen she’d picked up, an act that brought Factor’s thoughts back to the present. He had already realized that she was a part of all that.
“For me to do my job efficiently, Mr. Factor, I need to hear the facts of this case completely, truthfully and directly from you. Please tell me everything, right from the beginning. However, I have to tell you right now, that if I or my employer catches you out in a lie about any of this later, I’ll be gone from this place a hell of a lot faster than you’ll ever be. Do you understand what I’m saying, sir?
Factor nodded.
“Right,” his visitor said as she turned on her tape recorder. She pointed a finger at him and added – “go, then, and please speak clearly.”
Factor waited a moment and then said, “My name is Dean Factor, which you obviously know already so please just call me Dean.”
The young woman raised her elegant eyebrows at him.
“And I’m Elaine then, which is also fine with me.”
She reached forward, stopped the recorder and rewound the tape.
“Now we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let’s just start again, shall we? Don’t leave anything out and please don’t embellish it in any way to make your actions seem more sympathy oriented. Just tell it the way it was. I’ll decide what needs to be expanded or deleted later. Just the facts only, please, sir, and with no idle chitchat with me either. I’ll ask you questions if I need to. This time it’s all on the record, Mr. Factor.”
She pointed at him again and restarted the recording
Factor took a deep breath and began again.
“My name is Dean Factor and I’m being held in prison here accused of the murder of a man I only met once in a bar. We had an altercation of sorts but nothing to suggest I would want to murder him later.”
Elaine Reid wagged her finger warningly at him. It clearly meant ‘stay on track’. Factor nodded and continued.
“To try to explain what has happened to me and why, I need to start my tale of woe a few years back.
My wife, Dellie, and I started our small landscaping business a little over eight years ago. We had met and majored in Horticulture at university. In the process we also fell in love and married soon after we graduated.
Dellie told me that her mother had died when she was a baby and she hadn’t seen her father in years. She’d left home after a terrible argument with him when she was eighteen and had moved to Michigan. That was why she had only friends but no relatives at our wedding. It was only a small registry office affair anyway.
Soon after she had arrived in Saginaw, she had received a small very small legacy from an old maiden great aunt she’d never even heard of. The old lady was apparently a cousin of her grandmother’s. It wasn’t very much but it was enough to help pay for her university tuition and with some left over for living expenses.
When we first started our little business, it wasn’t really a garden center at all. It was nothing more than a roadside stand where we sold annual and perennial plants we’d grown from seed in a
small greenhouse at the side of our house.
We had plenty of land but no money to do anything with it and in the beginning, Dellie and I did everything ourselves.
We lived frugally and we put every cent we could spare back into the business. But it was so small that it didn’t even have a name. What it did have was a solid base of regular customers, people who came back year after year.”
Factor paused and looked over at his new lawyer. She just smiled and nodded for him to continue.
“It was one of those customers who, in a way, suggested the name we finally used. She had said to Dellie, “Everything is always so fresh and green here, Dellie, and it’s also so pleasant and easy to shop here as well.”
Later that day, Dellie said to me, “How does ‘Easy Green’ sound as a name for this place?” and she told me what the woman had said.
I agreed immediately and we ordered a sign to go over the top of our stand and that’s how it all started. As we gained experience and confidence, and with our solid base of regular customers, we began to clear a larger area of the land. When it was cleared, I built a lathed shade house and two larger heated and fan ventilated greenhouses.
Business boomed as a result and my next major purchase was a second hand truck for deliveries because we now carried a stock of fruit, shade and evergreen trees, plus flowering shrubs and small evergreens.
We bought them wholesale from growers and sold them on to our own customers.
With this expansion of ours we obviously needed extra help so we hired a couple of girls. They helped Dellie with sales and in the greenhouses, with seeding, weeding and watering. We also hired a couple of young healthy guys to help me in the shade house, in the yard and also with deliveries.
Once started, we had soon expanded even further requiring the purchase a dump truck and a small ‘Bobcat’ earth mover and fork lift.
Our final acquisition was to obtain a dealership agreement for interlocking paving and wall building bricks and blocks.
In addition to that we now handled bulk supplies of topsoil, sand and gravel. ‘Easy Green’ as it was now called, was, if you’ll excuse the pun,
