Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “I’ll come with you Frank.”

  I shrugged back at Talbot.

  “You seem to have a habit of following men into restrooms. People are gonna start to wonder. Or maybe you just want to remind me to wash my hands again?”

  Talbot chuckled, as his right hand pushed me gently from behind, back toward the men’s bathroom.

  “Sure, Frank, let’s just get this over with.”

  Funny thing, I’d made the very same walk to the Off the Record’s bathroom a million times before, and not once did it ever seem to take as long as it did this time.

  Behind me I could hear Reg turning the volume up on the large flat screen television that sat above the bar so that a Beyonce music video could be heard over the din of multiple conversations taking place in the now crowded establishment. She was bouncing around on some beach caterwauling about being drunk in love while a skinny, baseball cap wearing older guy in a white t-shirt was yelling how he was gonna “eat the cake”. Wow, pretty deep stuff.

  Tell you what, if that song was the last thing I heard in this life, I’d be one pissed off dead guy. No wonder this world is such a bad state when crap like that passes for music these days. Eat the cake? How about you eat shit and die buddy? Or at the very least just shut the hell up already?

  Talbot’s hand pushed on my back again. We were at the door to the bathroom.

  “Let’s hurry up, Frank. I don’t want that girl to be hurt.”

  Yeah, right, you murdering little prick.

  I could feel my fists clenching as I pushed the restroom door inward with my left shoulder.

  This one’s for you Walt…

  15.

  Talbot was expecting me to make a move. I on the other hand, was more than surprised after whirling around to face him to see that expectation included a rather wicked looking seven inch knife being held firmly in Talbot’s right hand. I heard the click of the restroom door lock followed by Talbot’s left hand gesturing palm up toward me.

  “Just hand it over Frank, I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  Talbot’s eyes said otherwise. He was willing to hurt me – badly.

  I slowly removed my jacket and wrapped it around my right forearm as I stared at Talbot. He in turn jabbed the knife at me in a somewhat feeble attempt at intimidation.

  “No bullshit, Frank – I’ll do what I got to do.”

  I could feel my eyes narrowing as I wondered if a similar threat had been made to Walt before they killed him.

  “You say that to Walt too Talbot? Before you and your goons killed him?”

  Jacob Talbot shuffled toward me, his face covered in sweat. He might have been a killer, but he was a nervous killer. It wasn’t something he seemed particularly comfortable with.

  “Is it really worth it Talbot? Whatever you think I have, is it really worth killing for?”

  Talbot paused, his eyes communicating an inner turmoil. The question was one he had been asking himself many times the last few days. That turmoil then receded though, replaced once again with deadly intent.

  “I have family. Kids and grandkids back in Ohio. I made a deal. Destroy the file, and keep them safe. So you see, I don’t really have a choice here. One way or the other Frank, you’re gonna give me what I want. I’m willing to pay you for it. Ten thousand dollars, no questions asked. You give me whatever Walt left you, and I hand you the cash. We’re dealing with people way above our pay grade Frank. It’s gonna be better for the both of us that we just give them what they want and walk away. Better for you, and better for me.”

  Sensing another moment of hesitation, I charged Talbot, using my coat wrapped right forearm as cover against the knife.

  Talbot, seeing me moving toward him, slashed out clumsily with the knife while taking a step backward. The hard soled heel of his right shoe slipped on something that had to have been water, piss, or both, sending his legs out from under him and the back of his head crashing down against the hard white porcelain corner of a sink.

  The sound of Talbot’s skull as it bounced off of the sink was a low, deep, clang, followed by the man’s body crumpling in full to the ivory-white tiled floor beneath him where he remained. I moved quickly to remove the knife from his hand, disposing of it in a waste basket near the still locked entrance door.

  I felt for a pulse and found one – a slow, steady beating of his heart. Talbot was still alive, but would be waking up with one hell of a headache and a possible trip to the emergency room for a concussion.

  From inside of Talbot’s jacket I removed a white envelope full of one hundred dollar bills – ten thousand dollars worth.

  Guess he was telling the truth about offering me a payoff.

  I then found Talbot’s cell phone, and placed both it, and the money, in one of my own pockets. The sound of someone trying to enter the restroom was followed by a voice from the other side declaring to someone else the door was locked. I needed to get moving.

  Placing my hands under Talbot’s arms I dragged his unconscious body into one of the two restroom stalls, sitting him atop the toilet and then adjusting his legs and feet to make it appear to someone outside the stall that it was just a guy answering the call of nature. I locked the stall door, and then crawled under the space between door and floor, grimacing as my hands were soon covered in the same wetness that had caused Talbot to lose his footing earlier.

  Getting back to my feet, I withdrew my own cell phone and called the only number I thought might be able to help get me past the two goons still waiting for me inside the bar.

  “Ivanka, it’s Frank. I need you to listen. I’m at the Off the Record. There’s two men here who are willing to kill me for something I have. I need you to send Arman down here to pick me up. Have him come into the bar and sit down at my regular table by the fireplace. There’ll be at least one other guy there – one of the two who want me dead. Let Arman know I can pay him for the help. A thousand dollars for him to show up and give me a ride back to your place.”

  There was only a slight pause before Ivanka, despite hearing what must have sounded like the ravings of a madman, responded.

  “He will be there in ten minutes Frank – a thousand dollars. Don’t disappoint him or you’ll have another who will want you dead.”

  Ivanka hung up, leaving me holding my cell phone in a hand still covered in wetness from the bathroom floor. I returned the cell phone to my pocket and did the very thing Talbot had reminded me to do earlier.

  I washed my hands.

  16.

  Deckler was watching me intently as I approached my regular table by the fireplace where he remained sitting. A quick glance toward the entrance to the Off the Record confirmed the second man remained there glaring back at me.

  Behind the bar, Reg was watching me as well, likely sensing something was going on between myself and these other men, related to the envelope I had handed to him earlier for safe keeping.

  “What happened to Talbot?”

  I sat down in the same seat I had recently vacated and smiled back at the other private investigator.

  “He’s washing his hands.”

  Deckler’s eyes flashed aggressively, as his right hand disappeared under the table.

  “You should know I have a gun pointed at you Mr. Bennington. Did you give Talbot what he was asking for?”

  I shook my head.

  “All a misunderstanding. He thought I had something I don’t. No big deal. You can crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of now. Bye-bye.”

  Deckler licked his lips, his nostrils flaring under his thick rimmed glasses as a strand of his comb over fell across the bridge of his nose.

  “You’re playing a very dangerous game here, Mr. Bennington. I can make another call and have that whore you’re so fond of killed. You do realize that, right?”

  I leaned back in my seat and stretched, rolling my head from side to side before looking back at Deckler.

  “You’re not the one in charge here Deckler – Talbot is. He hir
ed you, so cut the tough guy bullshit. Talbot is stuck in the bathroom for now, so how about you and I have a real conversation. You tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself, yeah?”

  I watched Deckler’s eyes look up at something behind me as a small smile crept across his fleshy face.

  “Looks like Mr. Talbot might have something to say about that Mr. Bennington.”

  Jacob Talbot fell into the chair to my right, his eyes struggling to focus. He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, his voice a tired whisper barely audible above the din of the crowded bar.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Frank. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I got no choice. I made a promise to some very powerful people I’d get the information Walt left you. I’m willing to kill you to keep my own family safe Frank, so just stop this nonsense and hand it over. It’s better for the both of us.”

  Talbot winced and held his right hand to the back of his head while I glanced over at the entrance, hoping to see Arman walking in, but instead only finding Talbot’s square jawed goon staring back at me.

  “How about you continue explaining what all of this is about Talbot? You were saying something about light bulbs, remember? What the hell do light bulbs have to do with you killing Walt?”

  I noted how Deckler looked over at Talbot with narrowed eyes. He didn’t know much more about what was going on than I did, nothing more than a hired gun.

  Talbot took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and then nodded slowly.

  “Ok, Frank, I’m willing to explain it to you, if it means you cooperating. Like I said, I don’t want any more people to get hurt.”

  Deckler opened his mouth to say something but Talbot cut him off with a raised right hand.

  “Go stand with Tony. Keep an eye out for the authorities. I’ll be done here soon.”

  Deckler paused, his face turning red as his eyes filled with rage. Again he opened his mouth to speak, and again Talbot cut him off.

  “Go over by Tony, wait there, and shut the hell up about it.”

  I watched as Deckler moved through the crowded bar to take a position next to the other gun for hire I now knew as Tony.

  “He looks pissed.”

  Talbot gave his shoulders a feeble shrug, his eyes lowering to stare at his hands that sat palm up on the table, opening and closing slowly.

  “He’s getting paid. That’s all that matters to him. Speaking of which, I noticed you took the money intended to secure your cooperation Frank.”

  I sat silent, not wanting to confirm I in fact had the ten grand. Talbot continued to stare at his hands as he continued the conversation he had with me prior to Deckler’s arrival.

  “You remember when I mentioned about it being colder than normal Frank?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, you said it was four degrees colder than normal. Then you started rambling about light bulbs. So what?”

  Jacob Talbot gave a thin, cold smile as his eyes wandered up to the ceiling above us, and pointed to one of the recessed lighting canisters.

  “See that bulb there? It’s a CFL, a compact fluorescent lamp mandated by the federal government a few years ago. Before then, we would be staring up at a regular old incandescent bulb, but somewhere along the line, the environmental lobby decided to push for a ban of those lights. Let me tell you, there was a hell of a lot of money riding along in that push, enough to buy off politicians, the media, and a whole slew of lawyers. And a lot of that money came from the taxpayers. Basically, the taxpayers were funding a program that would force them to have to buy far more expensive light bulbs. People are paying four or five dollars for a single bulb that doesn’t offer near the quality of lighting as the so called older technology. None of it makes sense, at least not to anyone looking at it honestly. So in Washington D.C., if something is being done that makes no sense, why does it happen?”

  I had to admit to being fascinated by Talbot’s conversation. He was talking politics now, a world I knew all too well.

  “If something happens and it makes no sense on the surface it usually means people are making money off it.”

  Talbot nodded his head and then winced again as his right hand returned to massaging his neck.

  “In this case, millions of dollars were going out to hundreds of political campaigns across the nation Frank. Votes in Congress were being bought. The White House was being bought, all in the name of protecting the environment. The entire agenda was about protecting the environment. They thought that people, most people anyways, would be willing to pay more for light bulbs, even a lot more, if they believed they were “doing their part” in helping to stop Global Warming. You see, the old light bulbs were deemed inefficient, wasteful, and causing us to use too much energy, which in turn would contribute to Global Warming. There was an entire multi-year campaign behind it, hundreds of millions in advertising just to convince politicians and the public to ban light bulbs. There were commercials, print ads, materials sent to public schools and universities.

  And you’re right Frank, it’s because somebody was making money off that ban – a whole lot of money. They would spend hundreds of millions so that they could make tens of billions, hundreds of billions, by getting every household in America to buy new light bulbs, much more expensive light bulbs, all under the lie of saving the earth.”

  I had several questions forming in my head, and already knew some of what Talbot was talking about, at least the legislative part. The congressman I had once worked for had in fact signed onto the light bulb ban himself. What I didn’t know though, was who was primarily benefitting financially from that ban.

  “So you’re saying someone spent hundreds of millions to make billions. Who was it?”

  Talbot’s jaw clenched as he stared back at me.

  “Global Electric. Over a decade ago it had initiated the CFL program so that once the ban was in place, it would have the vast majority of market share. And while it was getting its CFL program ready for launch, it was continuing to pump tens of millions into the environmental lobby. Cash went to Hollywood producers, the networks, Wall Street, it was spread everywhere to create a global awareness campaign that would prepare the launching pad for the light bulb ban.”

  Talbot raised his right index finger toward the ceiling of the Off the Record.

  “Let’s say there’s forty bulbs in just this one small business alone. Forty bulbs that now have to be purchased at a cost of three or four hundred percent more than the “old technology” light bulbs. Multiply that increase in cost by the hundreds of thousands of businesses, and millions of homes in the United States Frank, and you get an idea of the kind of money we’re talking about here.”

  Math was never my best subject, but even I could figure that over time, the amount might very well be pushing into the TRILLIONS of dollars.

  “What does any of this have to do with Walt’s death Talbot? Why are people willing to threaten you and your family? Threaten me?”

  Jacob Talbot glanced around him and then leaned across the table, nodding as he did so.

  “Exactly, Frank, you’re asking the right questions now. The fact is, the American public loves feeling like they’ve done good, right? You know that as well as anyone. If a politician can convince people that voting for them is the right thing to do, then they’ll win every time.”

  I nodded back at Talbot. He was right, it was campaign 101. Play on people’s emotions. Make them feel important. Make them feel good about themselves.

  “But what people don’t like, what they can’t stand, is realizing they’ve been played. Nobody wants to feel like a fool, nobody wants to realize they’ve been an unwitting part of a lie. And that’s exactly what happened with those damn light bulbs. But it’s bigger than just light bulbs Frank. It’s the whole thing. The entire environmental movement is as corrupt and deadly a place as you’ll ever find in this world today. It’s a trillion dollar industry, and the people in charge of it will do anything to keep it going, but
they can’t do that without the lie staying in place, because without that lie, it all falls apart.”

  I sat contemplating what Talbot was saying. The potential scope of the conspiracy seemed daunting to the point of being absurd. And yet Talbot, wrapped within the fear for his own family’s safety and survival, appeared willing to kill for the conspiracy. Walt was already dead. Maybe there was something to it – something very big. Something almost beyond the imaginings of even a man like himself who had spent years immersed in the corruption and filth of D.C. politics.