EASY GREEN

by Bill WENHAM

  And Liz Streeter is - a little voice of conscience niggled at him.

  He couldn’t bring Dellie back but he had to face reality. He was still a relatively young man with half his life still ahead of him. Liz Streeter attracted him; there was no doubt about that. He admired her immensely as well, but love?

  Although he’d been in her company, he had only spent a few hours with her socially. And love is hardly the most uppermost thought in a man’s mind when he has been bundled into the back of a police car en route to the police station, is it?

  Maybe he was blowing her phone call out of all proportion but there was only one way to know for sure and that was to accept the lady’s invitation.

  He spruced himself up, took a couple of bottles of Riesling out of his liquor cabinet and called a cab. Factor smiled as he hummed the words of the old Doris Day favorite, ‘Que Sera, Sera’ and thought, go for it, Dean, and whatever will be, will be.

  The cabbie found Streeter’s apartment without any trouble and gave Factor a card when he paid him. “Call me when you’re ready to leave, okay?” the cabbie said.

  “Yeah, right, okay,” Factor replied and hurried into the apartment block clutching his bag of Riesling. In the apartment blocks lobby, he found Streeter’s name on the board and buzzed her number.

  “Hi, Dean,” her robotic sounding voice said. “Come on up.”

  He got into the open elevator and Streeter was waiting for him with the apartment door open when he got off at her floor.

  “What’s this?” she asked with mock severity.

  “Wine,” he answered.

  “What did I tell you about drinking and driving?” she continued in the same tone.

  He showed her the cabby’s card.

  “No problem, Liz. He tells me he’s a teetotaler. Never touches the stuff.”

  She laughed.

  “Okay, come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  Factor slipped off his shoes and handed her his jacket, which she hung in a closet beside the door. Then he followed her into her tiny living room. It certainly looks cozy, he thought. It’s not big enough for anything else.

  It was as though she’d read his mind when she said, “I’m sorry it’s so small, Dean, but how much space does one person need anyway?”

  As soon as it was out of her mouth she thought, oh, shit, Liz, that’s a great way to start off the evening. There was Dean, rattling around in that huge place of his and all on his own. Really tactful, that was!

  Factor sat down in one of her two comfortable armchairs, courtesy of a yard sale two summers ago. Streeter went on into her tiny kitchenette and put Factor’s wine in the fridge. She took out a cooled bottle of Cuvee Speciale of her own and brought it in to the living room along with two glasses.

  “I hope you like this, Dean. Its one of my favorites and perhaps you’d do the honors,” she said, handing him the bottle and a corkscrew.

  Streeter went back into the kitchen and returned with a platter of cold hors d’oeuvres she’d prepared herself. She put it down on the coffee table in front of him, handed him a plate and a serviette, took one for herself and sat down in the other armchair.

  Factor poured each of them a glass of wine and raised his to her.

  “Here’s to love, sincerity, honesty and commonsense.” he said.

  She raised her glass as well.

  “I’ll drink to that, Dean,” she said. “You know all about those things, then, do you?”

  “I do, Liz. I have a non-university degree in all of those things. I could even be called an expert,” he said flippantly and took a sip of his wine.

  This is going to go well, Streeter thought as she sipped at hers as well. Just friendly chit chat and no heavy stuff to spoil it. That was what she had hoped for but as the evening progressed, the conversation inevitably turned to the three murders.

  It was her fault, she realized because, if she was to prove his complete innocence, she had to talk to him about it. If she didn’t, she couldn’t allow herself to go any further than sharing a friendly glass of wine.

  It wasn’t a glass of wine, either, because they had already finished her Cuvee Speciale and was halfway through the first of his bottles of Riesling.

  It was Factor who brought it up.

  “So, Plain Liz, my friendly cop lady, how does one go about actually catching a murderer,” he asked as he took one of the last of the tasty little tidbits she’d made.

  Well, she thought, there it was, out in the open, so let’s talk about it.

  “In order to catch a murderer, Dean, you have to learn to bloody well think like one,” she replied.

  He grinned at her.

  “So, you want to learn to think like me then, do you, Liz?” he said.

  She didn’t like that comment, even if it was meant as a joke. She needed to put a stop to that line of conversation right now.

  “Think like you, Dean? You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t ever need to think like you. I can read you like an open book,” She grinned at him and added, “That’s skipping all of the blank pages, of course.”

  Factor looked at her and smiled. God, he’s good looking, she thought.

  “It’s a shame you feel you need to think like a murderer, Liz, because I was just about to compliment you on what a really nice person you are,” he said.

  Streeter gave him a deadpan look and thought, ‘really nice’ isn’t exactly the way I want you to be thinking of me, Dean. Out loud, she said, “Trust a man, Dean. Haven’t you learned yet that no mere man will ever know what a woman is really thinking? Our brains are way too complicated for you guys to understand.” she said. If he wants flippant, I’ll give him flippant, she thought.

  Factor mirrored her deadpan expression and came back with, “I was also going to compliment you on your dedication, your ambition, your resourcefulness, your beauty, your modesty….”

  He paused.

  “No, no, scrub that one. Modesty certainly isn’t an attribute of yours at all. So, apart from that, you’re okay, I guess….”

  He paused again and grinned at her.

  “Except for when you’re arresting me, of course.”

  “Well, there you go,” Streeter said, matching his mood. “No guy who is trying to compliment a girl should ever put her dedication, ambition or whatever ahead of her beauty. So, you’re telling me that you think I’m not much to look at then, are you? You obviously mean that Plain Liz thing you’ve tagged me with as well, do you?”

  Factor backpedaled rapidly.

  “On the contrary, Liz, I think you’re the best looking female cop I know,” he said sincerely.

  Streeter grinned at him.

  “Nice try, Mr. Factor. I’m the only bloody female cop you know, aren’t I, right?”

  Factor hung his head in defeat. “Well, yes, I guess so,” he said glumly.

  Streeter decided to continue to go ahead with this mood to see where it led.

  “See what I mean, Dean. We ladies are always one step ahead of you mere males. You guys are never going to win, but never give up trying will you. It would take all the fun out of our lives.”

  Streeter took another sip of her wine and wondered to herself whether it was her or was it the wine that was speaking. She decided to push on.

  “You guys are like having a pet dog around. Something dumb and as dense as a brick but one that always looks at a girl with adoring eyes. He’s nice to pet once in a while provided he’s clean, toilet trained and doesn’t make a lot of annoying smells and noise, then he’s okay to let stay in the house.”

  “Is that all?” Factor asked, a little sarcastically.

  “Not quite, Dean. You should also know that once we’ve found our special pet, we ladies have an intense pride of ownership. That means we will not tolerate him sniffing around other females,” she said with a straight face.

  Factor grinned at her. It was obvious to both of them where this was now heading.

  “So,” Factor said. “Now that you
’ve set out all the ground rules, is it now time for you to start petting this poor creature of yours?”

  Streeter got up from her armchair and came over to Factor’s. She sat on his lap, stroked his hair and hugged him. Then she broke away and said,

  “So, how was that?”

  Factor pulled a wry face at her.

  “Well, Liz, if that’s the best you can do, I think perhaps I should look around for a new owner, don’t you?”

  Streeter pursed her lips.

  “Well, before you make such a hasty decision, let me just try that again. I’m wondering though, if perhaps I need a little help with this ownership thing.”

  She was still sitting on his lap and he put his arms around her, pulling her gently close. Then they kissed passionately for several minutes. Finally, when they came up for air, Streeter said, “I just asked for a little help, Mr. Factor, not to be bloody well smothered.”

  “Sorry, Plain Liz, but with me, you get it all or you get nothing,” he said. He held her away at arms length and waited.

  “All or nothing, eh? No middle ground for negotiation then?” she asked.

  Factor shook his head.

  “Afraid not, ma’am. None at all.”

  Streeter appeared to be considering for a moment or two and then finally said, “Okay, I guess. I’ll have to go for the whole package I suppose. Just so long as you always remember two things.”

  Factor raised his eyebrows.

  “And what are they?” he asked.

  “The first is that I am the owner in this arrangement,” she said.

  “And the second?”

  “Is that I will never allow my pet to sleep on my bed,” she said as she pulled him to his feet and led him by the hand over to the only closed door in the room.

  “In it, Mr. Factor, but never on it,” she added, grinning at him.

  Later in the evening, Factor said, “You know something; Lieutenant, I really think I’m going to really like being your pet. How about you?”

  Streeter nestled under his arm in her queen-sized bed, said, “Like it, Dean?” she responded happily. “I bloody well love it!

  Factor looked down at her with a bland look.

  “What’s wrong? What’s that look for?” she asked.

  “I’m just mentally revising the list of things I like about you,” Factor said.

  “And what do you like?”

  “Well,” he said very seriously. “I’ve had to reduce what was quite a long, long list down to just one item.”

  Streeter looked alarmed. That wasn’t what she expected him to say at all. Not after what had just happened.

  “There’s only one thing you like about me now?” she asked, frowning.

  Factor grinned at her.

  “After tonight, Liz, the one thing I like about you….”

  He paused and kissed her.

  “…is everything!”

  Streeter sighed and cuddled up to him.

  “Just hold on to that thought, kind sir, and we’ll talk about it some more before you leave in the morning,” she said happily.

  In the morning, when she awoke with Factor still beside her and the effects of the wine now worn off, she asked herself, what on earth do you think you were doing, girl?

  She also answered herself as she looked at her still sleeping new pet beside her. I was doing what I said I was going to do. I said I was going to check him out thoroughly and that’s exactly what I did do.

  She smiled and said aloud, and I’m happy about it, even if the Chief might not be!

  Chapter Seventeen

  In New York, Chairman Torrance had called another meeting of the Board. He stood up at the end of the table and addressed them. There were four of them, two on each side of the table. They had each glanced behind Torrance as he had entered the room, checking to see if his enforcers were trailing along behind him.

  They weren’t and the men relaxed.

  “Gentlemen,” Torrance said. “First of all, good morning to you.”

  The board members responded with a chorus of grunted ‘good mornings’.

  “I’m pleased to advise you that the Willoughby thing has been nicely attended to.”

  All of the men had already seen the news on the TV or had read the papers. They knew exactly what ‘nicely attended to’ meant and were all thankful it hadn’t happened to any of them. Tom Dalton’s demise in front of them had been bad enough.

  Torrance continued.

  “Our funding has been returned to its former source but we still have a problem and it could develop into a major one if we don’t soon fix it. All this publicity surrounding Dean Factor can, and will, if we don’t put a stop to it, have a serious detrimental effect on our investments in the Easy Green Garden World operation.

  For some reason, and one that isn’t immediately obvious to me, someone has a serious grudge against him over something. If all this nonsense and its related publicity continue, the Garden World stock values will plummet. We will be lucky to maintain the locations we have, let alone open any more new ones.

  Even Thatcher and his people may decide to jump ship before their investments are totally worthless.”

  He thumped his fist angrily on the table in front of him, making all their drinks glasses bounce.

  “We, gentlemen, have to make sure that Factor’s problems disappear, and when they do, ours will surely follow. Unlike Willoughby, he is quite obviously innocent as far as our organization is concerned and that’s all I’m concerned about.

  In fact, even though he doesn’t actually know it yet, he could be considered to be our most essential and efficient employee. It seems to me that he is being set up for these murders and as part of our ‘family’, we are obliged to help him solve his problems.”

  The board members nodded their agreement as Torrance’s gaze swept over them.

  “To begin with, I propose we find an immediate and suitable replacement for Willoughby. Someone from within our own ranks, reporting directly to the board just as Willoughby did.”

  He paused momentarily.

  “We will need someone as much like Willoughby as possible, with the same talent for successful land negotiations and an equally malicious talent for disposals whenever necessary. Knowing what happened to Willoughby, our new man would be a fool to try to cross us as Willoughby did, though.

  We will meet here one week from today, as usual, at which time I expect each of you to put forth two names for our consideration. I, of course, will do the same. Then we will vote, so choose wisely.”

  He let his intimidating gaze sweep over them once again.

  “The longer we procrastinate over these two problems, gentlemen, the more money we will ultimately put at risk – and, as I’ve told you all before, losing money, in any amount and in any way whatsoever, will no longer be tolerated.”

  He paused again.

  “By the way, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, but nephews or any other relatives of board members will not be considered as Willoughby’s replacement.”

  With his very obvious threat left hanging in the air, Torrance closed the meeting.

  Torrance was not a stupid man.

  He had not put together a multi-billion dollar criminal syndicate by being either stupid or compassionate. He ruled by criminally motivated commonsense, strict adherence to his own rules and with horrifying examples of the consequences of breaking any of them by anyone.

  Torrance was a superb organizer, a creative thinker and a terrifying opponent. He was, from his early days, extremely street smart which kept him well clear of the police. Some of them were paid and paid well, others, who either failed to produce, cooperate or tried to have him investigated, had serious and usually fatal accidents.

  When Dean Factor and Jim Willoughby had their first business lunch meeting together to discuss a partnership, Factor believed he was agreeing to partner Willoughby. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Among other things, such as negotiations an
d the elimination of unwanted former land owners, Willoughby was also a superb presenter – of other people’s ideas.

  Torrance himself had come up with the idea of what he referred to as the ‘poor man’s Disney World’. It would have none of the enormous technical expense of a Disney type operation, because no complicated electronics were needed. Those kinds of electronics were items that needed constant updating and service.

  Even the many attractions of his Garden World concept would cost him virtually nothing either. The basic cost of most of the maintenance in each park would be covered by the selection of the preferred suppliers. Even the cost of installing and operating the many food concessions would be paid for by sub-franchisees of the national fast food chains.

  Torrance’s concept was basically very simple. Do nothing and take everything from everybody.

  Most of his organization’s income came from a simple 15% commission structure – commission from everyone for everything. Torrance took 15% right off the top from the income of every business within the Garden World gates.

  In addition to that, take it or leave it, the food and other concessions paid a participation fee and land rent proportionate to the space they occupied. It might seem to be somewhat excessive but those riding the Garden World money making gravy train were unconcerned if a little of it got spilled.

  As part of their roles, Willoughby and Factor would be allowed to keep all of the income from the prototype, less 15% which would be deposited with a New York brokerage house. Its ‘insurance against a rainy day’ was all Willoughby would say about it and that he would handle it personally.

  Factor had no cause to doubt him since everything he had said so far had been right on track. Paul Thatcher and his consortium had a different arrangement for the first franchise. It was also set up and handled by Willoughby.

  As part of their agreement, in addition to their franchise fee, fifteen percent of their total profit would also go to the parent company. They must be viewed as incredibly successful by the public and to potential, even if imaginary, future investors. That would also be their incentive to grow the Easy Green Garden World Corporation.